


Following Orders

by sloop_slorp



Series: ABJ [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecurity, M/M, Manipulation, Megatron redemption arc???, Memory Issues, Mind Control, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Sleep Deprivation, Smokescreen is babey, Smokescreen just needs a hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wheeljack please, and i'll still never be able to forgive him, chapter???, definitely darker than my last fic, half a second???, he definitely doesn't deserve it, he must be protected, just go to sleep, soft Dreadwing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 64
Words: 104,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloop_slorp/pseuds/sloop_slorp
Summary: Knock Out is gone. Smokescreen is coping, as best he can. Ratchet is trying to hold him together. Dreadwing is starting to become part of the family. Shockwave is making new Predacons. Cybertron is being rebuilt. Things are looking up... or, at least, it seems that way for a little while. It does not last long....Megatronis back.~~~~~aka, the events of 'Predacons Rising,' but they take place after 'Against Better Judgement.'The sequel to 'Against Better Judgement.' If you have not read ABJ, I highly recommend it, otherwise, you are literally going to have zero idea as to what is going on in this fic. I mean, you might be able to figure it out if you pay attention to detail, but it's best if you start at the beginning of this series.
Relationships: Dreadwing/Wheeljack (Transformers), Knock Out & Predaking (Transformers, Knock Out & Smokescreen (Transformers), Knock Out/Smokescreen (Transformers), Predaking & Dreadwing & Wheeljack (Transformers), Smokescreen & Team Prime (Transformers:Prime)
Series: ABJ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966987
Comments: 297
Kudos: 44
Collections: Knockout joins the winning team, Smokescreen gets hurt





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnnddddd I'm back!!! Before we kick things off, I want to just say thank you to everyone that read 'Against Better Judgement' and I'm glad that you decided to come back to read more! I have big plans and can't wait for you guys to see those plans! I really appreciate all the love and support I got from all of you, it really means a lot to me!! Thank you!!
> 
> Well, without further adieu... Chapter 1 of 'Following Orders.'

It was a strange feeling.

Finally being back on Cybertron, that is.

They had worked so hard to get here. They had fought so long. They had made so many sacrifices to get here.

Everyone was more than ecstatic about being back home and finally being done with the war. Everyone was happily celebrating their victory and the humans were thrilled to see what Cybertron looked like now that it was, mostly, restored to its former glory.

The only thing it lacked was more Cybertronians to repopulate their massive planet.

But...

It didn't quite feel like _home._

For Smokescreen, at least.

His life on Cybertron had been so uneventful and calm, despite being created in the middle of a war. he didn't remember a lot of it either. Cybertron was where he grew up and where he spent a lot of his life, but he's had enough time to think about it and enough time to realize that Cybertron isn't quite his home.

Earth was far from being called his home. He had only spent so much time on it and he hadn't gotten the chance to get attached to it. He liked the cars on Earth, but that was it. It was nowhere close to being called his home.

Truth be told, he was on that Decepticon prison ship so long, it was more of a home to him than either Cybertron or Earth. Certainly, a normal Cybertronain, Decepticon or Autobot, would never dream of calling their home.

He didn't enjoy being a prisoner, but it still happened. He was still stuck on that ship whether he liked it or not.

Yet everyone seemed to forget that though.

In their defense, he had just mentioned that he had been a prisoner. He never said for how long or what it was like.

No one asked.

Maybe it was because they had prison experiences of their own. Maybe they already knew what it was like to be chained to the wall, waiting for the inevitable day when the Decepticons decide that they don't want to keep prisoners anymore.

Despite the fact that he had been there for a decent amount of time, being a prisoner wasn't particularly impactful on his life. He was actually locked in stasis for a lot of it. The parts he was online for was him chained to the wall right before he was put into stasis again, being interrogated, and occasionally fed enough energon to just barely keep him alive.

He had only been interrogated a few times before they realized he was still right out of boot camp and didn't have any information that could help them in any way.

They never actually tortured him, as he had thought was going to happen, but they forced themselves inside of his head. They messed around in his processor. It wasn't torture, but it didn't feel right. He didn't like people going through his memories.

That experience did leave him with a bit of a fear of cortical psychic patches and mnemosurgery.

After they stopped interrogating him, he had more time to think. He had more time to wonder if there was anyone he knew on this ship. He wondered where they were and how long they had been flying around, looking for more prisoners.

He spent the most time thinking about whether or not he would ever be rescued. He could see a team of Autobots finding and freeing them in the next deca-cycle. They would come in, guns blazing, tearing down the Decepticons and saving everyone on the ship, and taking them to rejoin the war and reclaim Cybertron.

Then there was one day he stopped thinking about it.

It was the day he realized that help wasn't going to be coming and that he would either be here until he died or until the war ended in Primus knows how many years.

It was also the day that he realized he had to escape himself or else he wasn't getting off.

There were occasionally guards that came to roam the halls and make sure that everything was in order. They came around once a cycle to his section.

He figured that it wouldn't be too hard to sneak out if the guards were never down here. He just had to figure out how to get out of the stasis cuffs.

He decided that the best time to get out was when he was given his ration of energon. He would be online and there would only be one guard to deal with.

The second he came online, he had kicked the guard unconscious.

It had stirred up quite the riot amongst the other prisoners. Several cheered him on, but a few of the older ones mumbled something about 'young mechs' and being 'reckless and idiotic.'

Smokescreen ignored them because he was too busy getting himself out of the cuffs.

Eventually, he managed to disable them, thanks to the tip of one of the prisoners across the hall. He had offered to free them as well, but they assured him that they didn't have anything waiting for them outside this ship.

Several other prisoners spoke up and asked to be freed as well.

Unfortunately, the ruckus had caught the attention of another guard.

Smokescreen had apologized, then ran as fast as he could in the other direction.

Unfortunately, his lack of proper fuel had meant that he didn't get too far before the guards caught up and were able to detain him.

They locked him in an actual cell that time and he was chained to the wall.

This time, he was sure to be more careful and plan more details than just 'get out.'

He studied when the guards walked by and when they switched shifts. There were a few other prisoners next to him that he talked with about the schematics of the ship to try and figure out where he was going.

From them, he also learned that he had been placed with the people that had been like him and were either stupid enough to try and escape, people that were considered dangerous, or people that actually held important information.

They all told him that he was crazy if he thought a newbie like him could ever be able to get out.

He never listened.

There was one old bot, by the name of- Smokescreen actually never learned his name. His real name at least.

He just called himself K1-1475332.

Smokescreen himself was X4-4083490. Smokescreen never introduced himself by his prisoner ID though. Something told him that he wouldn't need it much longer.

But K1-1475332 had told him what Smokescreen had wanted to know. He said that he hadn't seen someone with as much determination as Smokescreen in a while. He said that he was reminded of why he fought the war in the first place when he saw Smokescreen's face.

He fought the war for the future.

He said he was very disappointed when he realized that the future was also part of the war now.

Smokescreen was always entertained by the stories he told. He had many war stories and had clearly been through a lot.

Leaving him behind was almost spark breaking for Smokescreen. He had formed such a bond with the other bots on the prison ship.

But K1-1475332 assured Smokescreen that if he didn't leave right then, then he'd never have another chance to get out.

So Smokescreen left. He did everything he was told. He waited for the guards to switch. He avoided other prisoners. He avoided the main hallways. He went slowly and quietly.

He almost made it.

He could see the door to the escape pods. He could see the lock on it. He had even begun to bypass the door security to get out.

He was so close.

_So close._

Then the alarms started blaring, hallways filling with a red light. He could hear guards approaching.

The second that door opened, he ran into the room and entered the first escape pod he saw.

The exhilaration that filled his spark as he realized what he had done was overwhelming.

He did it.

He was _free._

Before he could celebrate, he was knocked back into stasis. He was locked in it for so long that he thought that maybe he didn't actually escape and that they had caught him and killed him.

But then he crashed into a hard surface and his systems began to come back online as he awoke from stasis.

Then he once again realized that he was free, and once he had completely regained his senses, he blasted his way out of the pod.

And the rest is history.

But they never asked, so he never answered.

He wasn't entirely sure if he would tell them if they did ask.

Maybe he'd give them the quick run down. The short and simple version. The quick 'I'll tell you on the go' story.

But no details.

It was far too detailed and there were far too many things that he didn't like about the prison ship to share with them.

"Smokescreen?"

He looked up to find Ratchet staring at him, slightly concerned.

"I asked you a question. Are you alright?"

"Sorry," Smokescreen mumbled, chin resting in his servos as he stared at the wall of the med bay. They made him frown.

Why did everything have to be purple?

"I'm fine," Smokescreen assured the medic. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" Ratchet asked. "If I may ask," he added quickly.

Smokescreen closed his mouth, but then sighed and dropped his hands down to his sides. He looked at Ratchet and the medic saw something else.

Ratchet did ask. Was he going to tell him?

"Of course," Ratchet replied softly. "Some things are best kept to yourself."

"Thanks for understanding," Smokescreen whispered.

It's not like it was something Smokescreen didn't want to share. It was just something he didn't like to think about.

"Although, I would ask that you do share anything that could be causing your health to decline before it gets too serious," Ratchet said.

It was nice to know that Ratchet cared.

"It's not anything like that, just... just some things I did in the past," Smokescreen dismissed. "Coming back to Cybertron has brought back a few memories."

"Good ones or..."

Smokescreen didn't reply.

"Ah..."

"Anyway, what did you ask me?" Smokescreen asked before the awkward silence could set in.

"I asked if you were in any pain," Ratchet repeated. "That's the point of this examination after all."

"Right, sorry," Smokescreen apologized. "My shoulder stings every once in a while and my door wing hurts if I move it too much. My chest rarely hurts and most of the minor scratches are completely healed. The only one left is the one on my face. That one will likely leave a scar though."

"Are you sure you don't want me to seal that one?" Ratchet asked. "It would be an easy fix."

Smokescreen ran a digit over the long wound that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth.

He could still feel Megatron's claw raking through his plating while he was forced to obey Megatron's demand for submission.

"I'm done covering it up," Smokescreen said quietly. "No matter how much I try to pretend it didn't happen, it won't change the fact that it did."

Ratchet offered a small smile. "That's good. It means you're making progress... Speaking of, is there anything else you'd like to discuss while we're here? If not, it can wait until our next medical examination or counseling session."

"Just one thing..." Smokescreen began fidgeting with his hands. "Have... have you heard from Predaking... or Knock Out?"

Ratchet shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. I haven't received a word from either."

"O-oh..." Smokescreen trailed off. "Alright... I'll be going then."

Ratchet gave Smokescreen a nod and sympathetic gaze, then watched the rookie leave the room, door wings lowered and shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Moments after Smokescreen left, Optimus walked in.

"How is he?" Optimus asked, clearly having just watched Smokescreen leave.

"Improving," came Ratchet's simple answer, but he didn't sound entirely sure. "However... a full recovery process, both physical and mental, is still necessary. I am not worried about his physical health, but his mental state will take much longer to heal."

"I expected as much," Optimus sighed.

"He will be cleared for full duty shortly," Ratchet remarked.

"I was more concerned with his health than him getting back to duty," Optimus shook his head. "If he needs more time to heal before I have him doing missions, then I am more than willing to be patient with him.

"Right now, he seems right where he needs to be. He talks much easier about Megatron. He mentions all his problems without hesitation. He's facing what happened instead of trying to cover it up."

"So he really is improving." It wasn't quite a statement, but not quite a question either.

"Yes," Ratchet nodded. "With the way things are going, he will be just fine. Although I think he won't stay on that track. That's usually how things go. They start going up, then they fall back down. The cycle goes and goes until he is either completely recovered or he falls so far down that he'll never be able to get out."

Optimus gave a silent nod.

"I will be able to help in the process, but in the end, Smokescreen's recovery is completely up to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the kick-off for the second fic in the ABJ series. This chapter included some of my own thoughts about what happened during Smokescreen's time on the Decepticon prison ship. If you think about it, Smokescreen was on that ship for a long time. He was still at Iacon before Cybertron was destroyed and he only arrived at Earth when the war was almost entirely over. Smokescreen might act happy and impulsive all the time, but if you think about, prison ships are by no means enjoyable places. Also, prison escapes are not easy. They take a lot of planning, planning that Smokescreen doesn't often show himself capable of making, but he is capable of it. I just thought it was something interesting that should be emphasized a little more... anyway, thanks again for reading!! Also just a heads up, I do have a job now, so it's probably going to be much harder for me daily. I will try my best, but no promises. Just be patient with me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapters to come!! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a warning for this chapter, and likely a lot of the fic, there are going to be some dark topics brought up. This fic is definitely going to be a lot darker than the first. That's mostly because we're dealing with PTSD and the effects it can have on people. There are a lot of instances where people with PTSD have hurt themselves or tried to kill themselves. This is my official warning. Some of those topics are going to be mentioned and/or displayed. If that triggers you or bothers you in any way, I completely understand, it's a sensitive topic. I just want to keep an eye out for you guys. Also, I don't want people to tell me 'There's self-harm in this? I didn't know that. You should warn people. What if someone gets triggered by this?' Well, this is your warning (plus it’s in the tags).
> 
> Mental health is serious. I think it's important for people to see that. That's part of the reason I want to include the emotions and thoughts Smokescreen is having so some of you guys get to see that. It's important for people to see that people hurt themselves and have suicidal thoughts. Like I said, if it bothers you, just skip over those chapters or don't read.

Smokescreen put up a front around everyone else. The mask of a fake smile and a strong will. A three-act play with himself and the horrors that live inside his head. It comes with a narrator and a musical number every so often.

He didn't necessarily enjoy lying to everyone. It was hard to keep up the act every moment he was around someone that might worry about him.

He didn't like lying to everyone, but he didn't like worrying everyone even more.

They didn't need to know that he was still struggling. That he still had nightmares. That every time they tried to touch him, he thought they were going to kill him. That he found it hard to trust them while he recharged. They didn't need to worry about him.

That was Ratchet's job. He was the CMO. He was the only one that should be worried about Smokescreen's mental state and physical health. He was supposed to take all his problems to Ratchet.

Yet he only found himself lying to Ratchet too. Every time they met, Smokescreen would talk to Ratchet, but he wouldn't tell him the whole truth. He was just fine talking about Megatron, but when it came to what Megatron did, he usually went quiet. He talked about his fears and nightmares, but he didn't tell Ratchet that he had nightmares every night and that he was in constant fear that something, or _someone,_ around him will end up hurting him. Even if it was an accident.

But even more so than Ratchet and everyone else, he lied to himself. Every time a thought to get help came up, he ignored it. Every time he reflected upon what he had gone through, he kept it to himself. Every time he cried himself to sleep, he woke up, wiped the tears, and told himself everything was fine. Everything was okay.

Most of the time it worked, and it worked well.

He could go through the entire day with his spinal strut straight, wings held high, hands steady, and tears never shown.

Everyone smiled when he came into a room. They were talking to him and supporting him, just like Smokescreen was sure Ratchet had told them to do after they demanded that they help Smokescreen.

Smokescreen appreciated it. It might not have been significantly helpful, but it was nice to know that they were at least trying to help him.

He only wished that maybe, just maybe they would notice that he wasn't doing as well as he said he was.

He wanted help. He really did. It was just that he wasn't sure how to ask for it. He wanted help that would come instantly and all his problems could be solved thereafter and he would never have to attend another therapy session again. He didn't want to be stuck with this forever.

The only issue was that everyone thought he was getting better. Even Ratchet, the person that was supposed to know everything about Smokescreen and was supposed to be helping Smokescreen deal with his trauma.

He wanted what Ratchet was doing to help him, but it never did. Although, that could be attributed to the fact that Smokescreen was lying to Ratchet about how drastic his situation and feelings really were.

He did get tired of lying all the time. It was hard to keep putting on a smile and laughing with everyone when really...

He was lonely.

But as tiring and hard as it was, he couldn't let the others know. They had plenty of other, more important things to be worried about right now. Besides, if he was going to be stuck with PTSD for the rest of his life, it meant that doing something now wouldn’t help that much. He could just put it off until Cybertron had been repopulated and restored.

So he kept it all to himself. Every doubt, every fear, every flinch, every tear. He bottled them all up until they were so deep down that not even a cortical psychic patch could find them.

However, his berthroom was the one place that all those feelings began to resurface all at once again. The moment his door closed behind him, the bottles he had kept so desperately hidden broke and him with it.

Today was one of those days.

The door slid closed and clicked, then he fell to his knees and his head hit the floor, clutching at his chest and trying to fight off the torent of sobs that demanded to be released.

It was times like this where he wished he had the claws of a Decepticon so he could scratch his way into his processor and take away his memories and fix it all, or that he could find a mnemosurgeon and ask them to make him forget everything that weighs him down.

He just wanted to go for a drive. A long drive across the surface of Cybertron that he wasn't sure he would ever decide to come back from.

But Ratchet would probably hunt him down and kill him for disobeying orders before he could even make it to Iacon.

He was stuck. And being stuck was his least favorite thing. He couldn't get away from anyone and he only had one place to go when he was stuck.

His mind.

But that only made things worse. Being left with his thoughts and fears meant that he went back to places that he didn't want to be.

The Decepticon Prison Ship, chained up, strapped to a berth in a dark room, or alone. The _Nemesis._

The ship he was currently _living_ on. The ship everyone seemed to forget belonged to Megatron and the Decepticons a few cycles ago.

Why couldn't they see how much Smokescreen hated it here? Why couldn't they see that being here only made him worse than he was before? Why couldn't they see that every hallway and door brought back more memories?

Memories of Megatron leading him through the halls, whispering in his ear about how he is going to be a great addition to the Decepticon ranks. Memories of Megatron tormenting him until Smokescreen had no choice but to accept his offers to make all of it stop.

The one comfort he found about this all was that he would never have to see or hear Megatron every again. He was long gone. Probably on the bottom of some ocean, rusting away. He would never have to worry about Megatron again.

But every moment Smokescreen was alone, his nightmares and thoughts always brought him right back to the warlord.

To what he said, what he did, what he could have done...

If Knock Out hadn't been there, who knows what would have happened. If Knock Out wasn't at his side to support him and help him through it all.

Another stuttered breath came from Smokescreen and his engine whined louder.

_Knock Out._

Primus, he wanted to see Knock Out again. He missed him. He had so much to say. So much to thank Knock Out for. He had never got to thank him for everything.

His dedication and determination to help Smokescreen. His loyalty to Smokescreen. His trust in Smokescreen.

Without Knock Out, Smokescreen would still be on that ship. He would be a prisoner, or maybe Megatron would have broken him enough to become a Decepticon. Everything that Smokescreen's done since he escaped the ship wouldn't have happened.

Optimus would have died. Megatron would have the matrix. Ultra Magnus would be dead. All the other Autobots would be dead or prisoners as well. The Earth would be defenseless and most likely enslaved.

Smokescreen let out deep breaths, allowing his cooling fans to kick in and try to relax his frame before he overheated or started having a panic attack. He picked himself up from the floor and walked over to his berth. He sat and allowed his frame to slump as he stared at the floor.

Sitting here and wallowing wasn't going to get him anywhere. He needed something to take his mind off Megatron. Something to help him cope with everything.

Knock Out was gone, so going to him was off the list. Ratchet would yell at him if he even tried to go for a drive. No one on the ship would even think about giving him some high grade. Maybe Wheeljack would, but if anyone found out, they would both be dead.

He let out a deep and shaky sigh.

Why did this have to be so hard to get over this? Couldn't he just go to sleep and be done with this all?

He didn't care how many times Ratchet said he just needed time and rest. He was done with the waiting, done with the pain, done with the nightmares, done with the unconscious flinching, done with the trust issues, done with the fear. Just _done._

He just wanted it all to go away. It would be so much easier that way. He could actually be of use to everyone and Ratchet wouldn't have to waste his time doing something that was never going to be fixed.

Smokescreen turned his gaze away from the floor and looked at his servos instead. They were shaking, just like they had been ever since Megatron died and Knock Out left. He tried his best to hold them behind his back or cross his arms so no one had to see it.

Ratchet undoubtedly noticed, despite Smokescreen's efforts, but the medic had never said anything about it. He was probably waiting for Smokescreen to do it himself despite knowing that Smokescreen likely wasn't planning on telling him anytime soon.

Smokescreen grabbed the base of one servo with the other, squeezing at the joint tightly to get it to stop shaking.

It would all go away, just like everything else. It would go away. It was only a matter of time. Ratchet had said he just needed a little time. It would go away with time.

But he was already tired of waiting. He had been patient. He had waited. Why hadn't he gotten better yet? Was there something else that he could be doing?

Smokescreen found himself squeezing harder until he saw some of the plating start to dent and his servo inadvertently started twitching and malfunctioning. He pressed a little harder, then winced when he suddenly realized that he wasn't doing this to stop his hands from shaking.

This wasn't helping him. It was just hurting.

But strangely... he found that it did help.

Ratchet said that if he was in pain, he could easily distract himself from it by experiencing stronger emotions or feelings than the pain. Maybe that worked in reverse.

Maybe... the pain could take his mind off everything else.

The pain could take it all away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I do have a job now, so even though I was able to update two days in a row does not mean I will be able to keep doing so. Most likely, I am going to update every other day in order to give you guys quality chapters that I don't feel like I'm rushing through. I will still be able to update daily when it comes to weekends or if I'm able to write ahead, but until then, be patient with me and enjoy!! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said, I have work.

The knock at the door scared Smokescreen so bad that he had accidentally torn through his plating, leaving an ugly, jagged, mark from the digits he had dug into his arm. It wasn't deep, but he saw a hint of blue welling up from the scrapes.

That wasn't going to get by anyone. Ratchet would notice in an instant and there was no other possible explanation for this sort of thing. Ratchet would figure it out the moment he saw Smokescreen.

If he could somehow cover it up, no one would know. If he shifted his plating just so, it would be unnoticeable.

There was another knock, more aggressive this time, throwing him off guard once again.  


He didn't have time to cover it up. He couldn't hide it right now. There wasn't enough time. He didn't have the right materials.

More time. He needed more time. He couldn't let anyone see this. He-

"Smokescreen!"

Smokescreen flinched out of his thoughts and let out an embarrassing squeak-like sound in alarm.

"Sorry! C-coming!" he stammered quickly, still trying to figure out how he was going to hide his new injury.

He went to the door, carefully twisting his arm just so that it was blocked by the shadow of the rest of his frame. It didn't actually hide that much. Smokescreen just hoped that maybe he could keep whoever it was at the door's gaze away from his arm.

The door slid open and Smokescreen almost fell backwards when he was greeted with the large frame of Dreadwing- the last person he was expecting to be knocking at his door in the middle of the day.

Did Ratchet send Dreadwing? Did Ratchet know something was wrong so he sent Dreadwing to figure it out? Or maybe Dreadwing had figured Smokescreen out on his own. Maybe Dreadwing knew. Maybe-

"Apologies, did I disturb your recharge?" Dreadwing questioned. "I did not mean to."

"N-no... it's alright," Smokescreen assured Dreadwing as he came up with a lie out of this. "I couldn't really fall asleep anyway. I... I've had a lot on my mind."

"I completely understand. I think most of us would agree with you. There is a lot going on at the current moment that has taken priority among us."

"An-anyway... what did you come for?"

"Right, of course. I was wondering..." Dreadwing trailed off as his optics lowered, then stopped.

Smokescreen followed his optics and realized immediately what Dreadwing was looking at.

"Ah-" Smokescreen quickly tucked his arm behind his back, pointlessly hiding it behind his back.

Dreadwing had already seen it. There was no point in hiding it any more. Yet he still did.

"You are hurt," Dreadwing pointed out, taking a step closer to Smokescreen.

"It's just a scratch," Smokescreen tried to keep his voice level and covered his arm a little more, thinking it would somehow stop Dreadwing's inquiry.

"What happened?"

"N-nothing. Nothing. Just... me b-being stupid."

Dreadwing stared doubtfully. "Smokescreen... did someone do this to you?"

Smokescreen's optics widened in surprise at the suggestion. "No. No! It wasn't... it wasn't anyone. Like I said, just me... being stupid."

Dreadwing's optics narrowed, taking another step closer. "How?"

Smokescreen stepped away. "How what?"

"How did it happen? How did you get hurt?"

Smokescreen averted his optics from Dreadwing's cold and serious gaze. "It-t was an accident. Really. It-s not a-a big deal."

Dreadwing stepped forward again. "What. _Happened._ "

Smokescreen gripped his injured arm tighter and pulled it against his chassis, continuing to hide the scratches despite Dreadwing already seeing them.

"Smokescreen... I am not judging you for an accident. I merely want to know what happened. Besides, if it is an accident, then you should not be this secretive about it."

Dreadwing did know, didn't he? But why did he care? And how did he know? Smokescreen had only just done this. How did Dreadwing know?

"Smokescreen, if you do not tell me, I will be forced to take you to Ratchet," Dreadwing threatened, finally walking into the room enough for the door to close behind him.

Smokescreen looked up quickly with fear in his optics. He shook his head quickly. "No! Don't do that! Anyone but Ratchet!"

"Wait... You..." Dreadwing's optics narrowed and lit up as he seemed to finally understand what was going on. "You... did this to yourself, didn't you?"

"I-I-I-" Smokescreen couldn't find the words.

Dreadwing knew. He knew. He knew. He was going to tell Ratchet. Ratchet's going to know.

"You hurt yourself on purpose?" Dreadwing sounded like a mix between enraged and concerned. "Smokescreen, do you realize how dangerous that is! Come along, we are going to Ratchet immediately.”

"No," Smokescreen's answer was immediate.

"Smokescreen, you need to see Ratchet."

"It's fine. I don't need to see Ratchet. I've been just fine on my own."

"Smokescreen, this is not 'just fine.' Hurting yourself is not 'just fine.' How long has this been going on for?"

"This... this is the first time... I didn't... I didn't really mean to. It just... happened."

Dreadwing let out an aggressive sigh. "I can help, you know. It's not too late to prevent you from hurting yourself more."

Smokescreen shook his head.

"I can help. Let me see your arm, please."

Smokescreen didn't move.

Dreadwing held out a hand and motioned for Smokescreen's arm. "Let me see it and I won't tell Ratchet. Now."

Smokescreen slowly reached forward.

Ratchet couldn't know. He had to keep this a secret from Ratchet.

Dreadwing gently wrapped his digits around Smokescreen's wrist, twisting it to examining it carefully and closely.

"What did you do this with?"

"Just... just my servos... just..."

"Servos? With your digits?"

Smokescreen nodded slowly, feeling the servoes he had done this with start to shake. "So... sorry..."

"No need to apologize. This is just... surprisingly deep for just being caused by your digits. Not too deep though. I have basic medical training. I can fix these up for you."

"Thanks..."

Dreadwing looked down at the rookie, but he did not say anything as he began to clean the hints of energon that had appeared along the edges of the scratches.

"I do not have the proper tools to weld this right now, but if you can promise that you can stay here without doing anything else, then I will go get them. Will you be alright?"

"I-I'll be fine."

"I'll be right back."

Smokescreen nodded and ended up sitting on the berth, watching as Dreadwing walked back toward the door.

Dreadwing gave a hesitant glance back at Smokescreen, then he left.

  


It wasn't long before Dreadwing returned with medical supplies. He didn't say anything as he sat next to Smokescreen and took the injured arm into his servo, glancing it over once again before he pulled out a small welding device.

"Hold still," Dreadwing instructed as his gentle touch returned to Smokescreen's wrist.

Once the burn of the welder hit Smokescreen's plating, he let out a small hiss of pain.

"Apologies, my welder is not as effective as that of a medic," Dreadwing let up on his welding for a moment.

"It-t's fine... Thanks... again."

"I have dealt with this before among the Vehicons. I will have you know that I do not approve of self-harm."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing. This is not something you apologize for. This is something you get help for."

Smokescreen nodded in understanding.

"I understand that you have gone through experiences that have caused your mental state to falter, but this is not the right way to deal with it."

"It's just... I usually went to Knock Out or went for a drive to let it all out. But now that Knock Out isn't here and I can't drive without getting yelled at... I've turned to other methods... even if they aren't right."

"How about I take you?"

"What?"

"For a drive. How about I take you?"

"I thought you were a jet."

Dreadwing stared down at Smokescreen. "I still know how to take a joy ride. Do you want to get out of the base or not?"

"Oh, Primus, yes."

Dreadwing's lip plates curved into the start of a smile Smokescreen thought he would never see. It quickly disappeared though. "One last thing before we go."

"...Yes?"

"If you ever have thoughts of hurting yourself, you come to me. We will go for a drive. We will talk. Just come to me. You do not deserve to be alone through this. I am here for you. We all are."

"Thanks for... all of this. I really... I really needed someone."

"Knock Out was not the only one on the ship Smokescreen, remember."

Smokescreen's optics widened as he stared up at Dreadwing.

"I was not as involved as Knock Out, but I knew what Megatron was doing. I also did not condone his actions, nor will I defend them. What he did was wrong. Anyone, Decepticon or Autobot, could see that. If Knock Out did not set you free, I might have."

"I... I changed my mind about the drive."

Dreadwing's optics narrowed in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Do you mind if we just... sit here, instead?"

"Whatever you want."

Smokescreen let out a shaky sigh and slumped onto his berth.

Dreadwing sat next to him.

Smokescreen tapped a digit against Dreadwing's servo. "Do you mind if I..." the rookie trailed off.

Dreadwing seemed to get the idea though. He held out an open palm toward Smokescreen, who took it slowly and gripped it like it was a lifeline.

They sat there in silence, holding hands, for some time.

Smokescreen wasn't paying attention, he was just enjoying the physical contact and comforting presence Dreadwing gave him. It only ended when Smokescreen finally and slowly released Dreadwing's hand.

The larger bot looked down at the rookie in a little bit of surprise.

"I'm... I'm better now... I think."

"I do not have anywhere to be if you want to remain here."

"No... it's alright. It helped. Thank you."

Dreadwing nodded and stood from the berth.

"Are you sure there is nothing more you would like?"

"Actually... you still up for that drive?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!!! Bonding time :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about another late update, I've just been having a really stressful week and it just all piled up yesterday. I had a big school project to finish because no one else in my group was doing anything. I had a lot of homework to do because my teachers just love giving us Friday homework, I already wrote this chapter, but then my computer shut down and didn't save, so I lost the entire chapter. I had a good solid cry about that. If you guys only knew what it was like to be a writer and lose a chapter, then you'd understand why I cried. Not only that, but I have to work almost every day as well. Also, my car is falling apart, so I couldn't even go for a nice long drive (which is how I calm myself down most of the time). One of my tires has a slow leak and my car keys aren't working anymore, but it's probably just an issue with the battery. Luckily, I can change a tire, but it's still some work. All of this week's stress just hit me real hard yesterday and I couldn't find it in me to write a chapter. I got a good night's sleep and woke up feeling much better and ready to write.
> 
> Sorry about all that, but I'm feeling a lot better now. Regardless, here is the chapter.

It had taken a while, but Smokescreen had finally managed to get cleared for duty by Ratchet. There was a lot of convincing necessary, but Smokescreen was able to go on his first mission on Cybertron.

It was a scouting mission, which wasn't too serious, and he was going to be paired with Ultra Magnus, but Smokescreen was just glad that he wasn't cooped up anymore.

The only downside was having Ultra Magnus constantly scolding him when he went too fast.

"Smokescreen, you are still recovering, I recommend not straining yourself," Magnus chastised.

"Come on Magnus," Smokescreen whined. "You know what it's like to be denied duty. I've been stuck on that ship without anything to do. I finally have a chance to get out. I'm taking full advantage of this. I'm going to go as fast as I want and there is nothing you can say or do that will stop me from doing so."

Magnus sighed. He knew how stubborn Smokescreen could be. He decided there was no point in trying to argue with the rookie.

The kid had deserved a bit of freedom after he was forced to spend every second in his room or with Ratchet.

Magnus was happy to hear the delighted laughs from Smokescreen as he drifted around a few corners and spun in circles a few times.

"Primus, it feels great to be back on my wheels!" Smokescreen exclaimed.

"I am glad you are enjoying yourself, but need I remind you that you are also on a mission right now?" Magnus asked. "You need to stay focused."

"Relax a bit," Smokescreen replied as he stopped his spinning and started driving straight once again. "There isn't much to see here anyway. There's no one but us and Shockwave, Starscream, and Flatline on this planet right now. I doubt anything really dangerous is going to show up. Let's just enjoy a nice drive while we can. We haven't gotten any vacation time in a while."

Magnus let out another sigh as he sped up in order to catch up with the rookie.

"How about a race?" Smokescreen laughed.

"No."

"Aww. You're no fun."

"So I've heard."

"Just this once?"

"No."

"It's therapeutic."

"It is dangerous."

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"I am not racing."

"Afraid you'll lose~" Smokescreen emphasized the taunt with a rev of his engine.

Magnus' engine rumbled in response. "It is against protocol. Not to mention that Optimus disapproves of it."

"Optimus isn't here," Smokescreen pointed out. "I don't see the harm in one race. We're only having a bit of fun."

Luckily, a proximity beep sounded on Magnus' dashboard.

"Two spark signatures just ahead," Magnus said as he slowed down and transformed, Smokescreen doing the same. Magnus transformed his good hand into his gun. "Proceed with caution."

Smokescreen nodded, arming himself as well as they rounded a corner.

There were two large bots standing in the dark, digging through some piles of rubble.

The two turned to Magnus and Smokescreen with glowing yellow eyes.

"My name is Ultra Magnus, are you Autobot or Decepticon?"

They stepped closer to the light and one laughed.

"Neither."

Then they transformed.

Both were four-legged beasts. It didn't take long to figure out what they were.

"Predacons," Magnus said as if it weren't already obvious.

They barely had any time to react before they were attacked.

One had gone after Magnus and the other had tackled Smokescreen, dragging him easily and playing with him like a toy.

Magnus was mostly holding his own against the other, but the Predacon was still clearly stronger.

The Predacon took off, but Magnus had grabbed a hold of its tail before it got too high.

The beast tried to shake Magnus off and shoot him with flames, but Magnus managed to keep a firm hold on it. He even managed to deliver a punch to the beast's face, causing it to slam into the side of a building, then back down to the ground.

Smokescreen was still losing miserably to the other Predacon.

Not only was the rookie much smaller and weaker, but he was also recovering from severe physical and mental injuries. Smokescreen never stood a chance.

He learned that after he was thrown into the side of the building and crushed by several layers of debris.

Smokescreen let out a strangled breath as his systems were flattened. He couldn't lift the debris off himself. It flattened him in just the right places to make it impossible for him to move.

The loud screech of the Predacon that had thrown him into this predicament in the first place drew Smokescreen's attention away from his lack of mobility.

The Predacon's mouth lighting up with bright orange returned Smokescreen's attention to his lack of mobility.

He couldn't move.

The Predacon was about to light him up and he couldn't move.

Wasn't this just great?

His first mission after weeks of being confined to the ship and he was going to die.

He never even got the chance to see Knock Out again.

He still had so much to thank Knock Out for.

Smokescreen looked to Magnus, hoping that perhaps the commander would be able to rescue him.

Sure enough, Magnus had seen the situation, but he was still too occupied with fighting the other Predacon to find a moment to assist.

Smokescreen shut his optics as he waited for the heat of the Predacon's fire to start destroying him.

But nothing ever came.

Except for a loud roar. One that did not belong to either of the Predacon's they were currently fighting.

Smokescreen's optics shot back open quickly as he watched something barrel into the side of the Predacon in front of him fast and hard.

It took Smokescreen a moment to actually realize what he was looking at.

Deep maroon and covered in spikes. Thin and fast, but also powerful. A perfect combination.

That was...

That was _Knock Out._

Something began to bubble up withing Smokescreen's chassis. Excitement was the main ingredient.

Knock Out.

He had saved Smokescreen. He had tackled the hostile Predacon and pinned it to the ground, sinking his claws into the plating of the enemy and immobilizing it.

Then he turned to Smokescreen.

This time, fear began to take over.

Smokescreen once again realized just how vulnerable he was. He was injured and trapped.

_Easy prey._

But Knock Out transformed.

"Smokescreen!" Knock Out shouted as he quickly made his way up to Smokescreen's side and began to assist in clearing away the debris.

"Knock- Knock Out?" Smokescreen gasped out in disbelief. "I... I thought you were with Predaking."

"I was."

"Then... then what are you doing here?"

"I was in the area."

"That doesn't answer _why._ "

"I'll tell you all about it later." Knock Out offered a clawed servo to Smokescreen.

The rookie stared at the golden claws for a moment too long.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," Knock Out said gently. "Predaking's done an excellent job. I'm in total control of my thoughts and actions now."

Smokescreen stared a second longer, then he finally accepted the servo.

Knock Out easily pulled Smokescreen back to his feet.

Smokescreen didn't know what he was thinking, but he put his arm behind Knock Out and pulled him tight against him.

Knock Out's optics widened in shock and his mouth fell open, but it was soon replaced with a smile.

"Did you miss me?" Knock Out teased slightly.

"You have no idea," Smokescreen whispered.

"Hate to break this moment, but I think Magnus is about to be killed."

Smokescreen looked to the side. "Oh, fragging Pit-"

"Woah, you're too young to say that."

"Wheeljack's a bad influence. Now shut up and go save Magnus. I'll call for a bridge."

Knock Out didn't need to be asked twice. He transformed quickly and charged after the Predacon mauling Magnus.

"Ratchet, prepare an emergency bridge!" Smokescreen said frantically over his com. "Prepare the medical bay as well."

 **"Are you alright?"** Ratchet replied quickly.

"Just fine- no, I'm doing incredible. I haven't felt this happy since- well- before I ever met Megatron. It's Magnus that's in trouble. I can't see too well from here, but it looks bad. Predacons really don't like him, do they?"

 **"Predacons!?"** Ratchet's complete shock was quite evident. **"Where in Primus' name did you find Predacons? Last time I checked, it was only Predaking and Knock Out- wait... Smokescreen... Knock Out wouldn't happen to be there with you... would he?"**

Smokescreen looked up at Knock Out taking out the other Predacon, then transforming and squatting down to investigate Ultra Magnus.

**"Smokescreen?'**

"He may or may not be here."

**"And he attacked you?"**

"Attacked? No! I never said anything about him attacking us."

**"But... you said that Magnus... and Predacons."**

"But I never said it was Knock Out."

**"Then what is Knock Out, pray tell, doing there."**

"He saved us."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely thinking that I'm only going to be able to update every other day. I'm just too busy to write enough for one chapter in one day. Hope you guys are all okay with that.

Smokescreen realized that he was staring at Knock Out dragging Ultra Magnus.

Despite Knock Out's lack of stature, he carried the much larger Autobot easily to the ground bridge.

Then Knock Out hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Smokescreen asked, coming up to Knock Out's side.

"Nothing... just... I'm not sure if I'm ready to face Ratchet right now."

Smokescreen laughed. "Welcome to my world. I have to see him almost every day."

Knock Out gave Smokescreen a gentle and fang-filled smile.

"Knock Out, before we go see the others... I have to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything. You've done... you've done so much for me."

Knock Out didn't reply, giving Smokscreen a moment to collect his thoughts.

"You fixed me when I was broken. You put me back together. You kept me grounded. You kept me stable. I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't been there."

"I have an idea."

"Thank you."

"Let's see the others then, shall we?"

Smokescreen nodded.

They both took deep breaths, then they walked through the portal.

Everyone was waiting on the other end of the bridge.

They were cautious, but their relief in seeing Knock Out again was also evident.

"I guess the first thing I should be saying is sorry," Knock Out said.

"You were not in control, you should not have to be apologizing for that," Dreadwing said.

"That's why I'm apologizing. I hurt most of you without even realizing it. That has always been one of my worst fears as a medic. Hurting someone, or worse, killing someone, that I care about accidentally. Without even knowing it, I'm going to mess up and do nothing but more damage."

Ratchet took a step forward. "Welcome to being a medic. You mess up all the time. Now take Magnus to the medical bay so we can work on him."

"W-we?" Knock Out stuttered.

"Yes, now come on."

"I-I... are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't trust myself right now."

Ratchet rolled his optics. "It's not like you're replacing his T-cog. It's just some minor exterior work. You'll be fine."

Ratchet began walking down the hallway, not giving Knock Out any more time to protest.

Knock Out, of course, ended up following Ratchet while he continued muttering how he shouldn't be doing this.

Apparently all Rachet's orders were still absolute to the Predacon.

Smokescreen couldn't help but smile as he watched Knock Our quickly stalk after Ratchet and drag Magnus down the hall.

_He had missed Knock Out._

"Where'd you find him?" Arcee asked.

"And where is Predaking?" Dreadwing added.

"Knock Out found us," Smokescreen answered. "And Predaking wasn't there... There were two other Predacons though."

"Two?" Wheeljack joined in. "There are two more?"

"That I know of," Smokescreen shrugged.

"Then perhaps we should seek out Predaking," Optimus suggested. "Not only about Knock Out, but about these two new Predacons."

"If he does know them, we should tell him that they need to learn not to attack on sight," Smokescreen grumbled. "Everything hurts."

"Perhaps you should go see Ratchet," Dreadwing said. It was much more of an order than a suggestion. Something in the way he stared also told Smokescreen, 'If you do not go to Ratchet, I will tell him what you did.'

"He's already taking care of Magnus," Smokescreen tried to explain. "I've got nothing but a small dent or two, Magnus was scratched up a lot more. He needs the help right now. I can wait."

Dreadwing narrowed his optics.

"Well, actually, now that Knock Out's back, you can go to him," Bumblebee pointed out.

If Smokescreen went to Knock Out, the medic would want to give him a complete physical and mental check up. A complete mental check up would mean Knock Out would find out Smokescreen isn't doing as well as he says he is. A complete physical check up would mean Knock Out might find out what Smokescreen did to try and cope.

Smokescreen didn't know if he wanted Knock Out to know that.

Right now, he wasn't sure if it would be worse if Ratchet or Knock Out found out.

They would both blame themselves, that's for sure. They would both likely going into a whole speil about how he's doing it wrong. They would tell him that he could come to them. They would both try to give him a therapy session.

But if they were both in the room, it would twice as bad.

Or maybe he would just dismiss the injury as on he sustained in the fight. Except that it was already sealed. Ratchet and Knock Out would know that the wound was recent, so he couldn't play it off like an old scar.

He'd have to think of something before that time came.

"It's really just fine. I'm alright waiting."

"Didn't you just say that everything hurt?" Wheeljack reminded. "That doesn't sound alright to me."

"It more of a sore hurt. Sure, I'm scratchet a few places and dented from when I got thrown into the side of a building, but It's not that bad."

"No offense, but being thrown into the side of building sounds kind of bad," Bulkhead commented.

"I will have to agree with Bulkhead," Dreadwing said, not taking his optics from Smokescreen and taking a slight step forward as he straightened his posture.

Smokescreen raised his hands. "Alright, alright, I'll go see Ratchet."

Dreadwing relaxed his shoulders gave a slight nod. "Better."

Smokescreen marched into the hall and began walking toward the med bay before anyone could say anything else.

They didn't appear overly concerned about his lack of desire to see Ratchet, other than Dreadwing, of course.

Smokescreen _needed_ to see Ratchet and Dreadwing knew that.

Luckily, Dreadwing had been relatively understanding about Smokescreen's situation and hadn't pushed him to see Ratchet it. Not until now, anyway.

Deep down, Smokescreen was glad.

He also knew that he needed to see Dreadwing, but there was a part of him that was saying that he should avoid Ratchet, or any medic, for that matter.

That was the part telling him that he was just fine. The part telling him that he could get over this. The part telling him to ignore it all.

Smokescreen usually found himself listening to that part. It was reasonable and it he didn't need help.

**It's easy to just do it on your own.**

Yet, the other part is telling him the complete opposite.

_No matter how easy it is, you need someone to guide you through it._

**Just get over it.**

_It takes time._

**It's not that big of a deal.**

_It will change the rest of your life._

Smokescreen shook his head.

He was going to see Ratchet. Seeing Ratchet didn't mean talking to him. He just needed to get fixed up.

That was the one thing he knew for sure.

He didn't like being confined to the base, so he needed to at least be sure that he is able to keep going out.

Smokescreen paused outside of the doors of the medical bay. He took a deep breath, then he pushed the button to open them.

Both Knock Out and Ratchet looked to him.

"Sorry, everyone told me that I should come down to you guys, even though you're busy with Magnus," Smokescreen began to quickly explain.

"That's quite alright, Knock Out can look you over," Ratchet said as he went back to work on Magnus.

"A-alright."

Knock Out stepped away from Magnus' side and directed Smokescreen over to the unoccupied berth.

"So, what are we dealing with today?" the Predacon asked.

"Nothing major. Just a few dents and scratches from the fight. I feel fine, but everyone insisted that I come see you."

"Now, did they insist because they think you need medical attention or because they think that you need to see me. There's a difference."

"I... I don't..." Smokescreen trailed off.

"Don't know? I figured."

Knock Out began to carefully look over Smokescreen, poking in places that seemed damaged.

"Never thought about it at the time," Smokescreen said, trying to hide the small pained gasp that escaped his voice box when Knock Out started poking his back.

The medic stopped his touched.

He definitely noticed Smokscreen's pain.

"I'm glad you came by anyway," Knock Out said as he reached for something on a table nearby. "There's been something I need to tell you. Well, I said it to everyone earlier, but I think I should say it to you again... personally."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question of the Day: Do I like cars because I like Transformers, or do I like Transformers because I like cars?
> 
> Answer: I don't even know. My interest in both of them started around the same time.


	6. Chapter 6

"There's been so much I've done to you," Knock Out said softly. "I've hurt you. I've left you. I can not express my need to apologize for everything enough."

"I've already forgiven you," Smokescreen replied.

"You shouldn't have," Knock Out's voice continued to drop softer and his touches became more gentle and meaningful. “You were hurting and I left. I should have seen it. I should have known. I should have stayed.”

“Knock Out, you couldn’t see at all,” Smokescreen pointed out. “You couldn’t have known. You had no choice but to leave. You weren’t in control and that is not your fault.”

“It is though,” Knock Out’s voice rose again. “It’s my fault for not being in control. My fault for hurting you. My fault for leaving you. No one else was in charge of controlling me. It was all on me. It was my fault.”

“I don’t blame you, Knock Out-“

“You should.”

“-So you shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

Knock Out went silent and continued assessing the damage to Smokescreen’s back.

Smokescreen tried to keep himself from flinching each time Knock Out’s claws touched him. He wasn’t always successful in his attempts.

He also wasn’t sure if he flinched because of the pain, or for the fear that Knock Out would hurt him.

His claws were just so long and sharp. Light glinting off their gold points. They could easily tear Smokescreen apart. They had almost done it before, they wouldn't have any problem doing it completely this time.

“It should be an easy fix,” Knock Out said. “As you thought, it’s nothing too terrible or urgent, but it was smart of you to come here. We can smooth out the dents and fill the scratches. That will also take care of a lot of the pain.”

Smokescreen nodded and tried not to tense as Knock Out’s claws rested lightly against his side and the medic reached for the table next to them.

Knock Out picked up something, although Smokescreen couldn’t quite tell what it was. It looked like a mix between a welder and a syringe.

There was nothing for a moment, then a deep sigh and a loud clang.

“Ratchet!” Knock Out called.

The other medic looked up immediately from his work in Magnus and toward Knock Out, slightly confused and worried.

“I… I can’t do it,” Knock Out mumbled.

Smokescreen looked back to see Knock Out staring at shaky hands.

Knock Out clearly wasn't the only one completely terrified at the current moment.

Ratchet also noticed the obvious distress and nerves when it came to working on Smokescreen.

“Knock Out,” Ratchet began. “You are a medic. _This is what you do.”_

“But what if I hurt him?” Knock Out said. “I’ve done enough to hurt him already. I wouldn't be able to live with myself anymore if that happened.”

“Knock Out, mistakes happen. Bots mess up. You’ve messed up. I’ve messed up. Primus, even Optimus has messed up. No one is perfect, so get used to it.”

Knock Out sighed. “I know, I know, but… but this is the one thing I can’t allow myself to mess up anymore. Once it’s broken, I can’t fix it.”

Smokescreen gave Knock Out a look. “What do you mean? You’re a medic. Isn’t it your job to fix broken things?”

Knock Out was surprised. “Yes- well, in the context of this situation… I’m afraid that if I hurt you anymore, you’ll break and I won’t be the one you come to because I was the cause.”

“You’ve fixed me once. You can do it again. It doesn't matter the cause. You're a medic. You'll fix me. I know you will.”

Knock Out stared at Smokescreen, then he looked to Ratchet.

“Listen to the kid,” Ratchet mumbled as he got back to work. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

Knock Out then stared at the other medic, mouth open to say something, but he closed it and looked down.

“Alright,” he whispered. Then he, once again, reached for a sander and the syringe looking tool.

It was filled with a filling liquid. Not quite the same as welding, but good for smaller and lighter scrapes.

“It’s a shame,” Knock Out muttered as he began working with the jagged scratches covering Smokescreen’s back.

“Hmm?” the rookie hummed in confusion.

“Your paint job has become a terrible mess,” Knock Out answered. “I’ll restore it properly for you. At least one of us has to look good… seeing as I’ve lost my beautiful finish.”

“All you need is a good buffing,” Smokescreen said. “I think you actually look better like this.”

Knock Out’s hands faltered. “You think I… look better?”

Smokescreen nodded, slightly wincing when Knock Out put a little too much pressure on injuries, but doing his best to hide it.

Knock Out smiled. “I’ll have to take you up on that buffing then.”

“I never said _I’d_ -“

“It’s only fair. I’m taking care of you right now, so you get to take care of me later.”

“Fine,” Smokescreen groaned without much protest.

There was a long moment of silence before anyone spoke again.

“Smokescreen,” Knock Out began.

“Yes?”

“While we’re here, do you mind if I give you a proper examination? I haven’t seen you in a while and- by no means am I questioning Ratchet’s skill as a medic to judge your physical and mental health- but I would like to check up on you for myself.”

Smokescreen tensed and looked away from Knock Out, but also catching the attention of Ratchet.

“Knock Out, I have medical documents if you would like to see them,” Ratchet pointed out, once he saw the flash of panic in Smokescreen’s optics. "Unless..." Ratchet narrowed his optics at Smokescreen. "Unless there have been any developments in your condition."

"Ratchet, it's been what, a day, maybe two, since I-I last saw you, what could have changed in-in such a short amount of time?" Smokescreen asked, keeping his voice surprisingly level, given what his mental health _actually_ looked like and the self-harm.

However calm Smokescreen sounded though, Ratchet caught on to the momentary stutter and the shift of gaze.

It didn't seem like much. It would mean nothing to someone else, but to Ratchet, it meant a whole lot.

"I can think of a few things," Ratchet said. "For one, your approval for active duty and first mission back. Second, getting attacked on the mission. Third, getting saved by Knock Out. And of course, Knock Out returning to us and him currently operating on you while you both share a similar fear. Knock Out fears that he is going to hurt you... and you fear that Knock Out is going to hurt you."

Knock Out looked down to Smokescreen with horror in his eyes. He quickly dropped his medical tools and raised his hands as he stepped away from Smokescreen.

"Why... why didn't you say anything?" Knock Out asked softly. "Why didn't you tell me you were scared."

"Because... I don't- I don't _want_ to be scared," Smokescreen answered with the same whispered tone.

Ratchet placed down his medical tools as well, joining over next to Knock Out and Smokescreen.

"Knock Out, you finish up with Magnus, I will take care of Smokescreen... for now," Ratchet instructed.

The Predacon stepped aside quickly to take Ratchet's place working on the Autobot commander.

"Smokescreen, you know that's not how things should be done," Ratchet said softly. "You need to talk things out. Pushing them down and trying not to think about them is not the right thing to do. I'm here to help you. I _want_ to help you. But in order to help, you need to _let_ me."

"I know, I know," Smokescreen sighed. "It's just... it's easier to not say anything at all. I like keeping it to myself. I know I should talk to you, but, I don't know if I want to tell you."

"It doesn't have to be me. Anyone will do, really. You don't need a medic. You don't need me. You don't need Knock Out. Someone that will listen. That's it. And I can guarantee that everyone on this ship _will_ listen to you. If it makes you feel better, talk to them. Once you're used to talking it out, then you can come back to me."

"But that... that will take too long."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. Recovery takes time. You can't rush it."

"I just want to be fixed."

"I know. That's the point of this all. I'm here to fix you, but-"

The sound of metal crashing to the floor cut Ratchet off and drew their attention.

They both turned quickly to the noise and found Knock Out's optics blown wide and out of focus as he stared blankly at the wall.

"... Knock Out?" Smokescreen tried cautiously.

Knock Out's head slowly turned toward them.

"Knock Out," Ratchet repeated.

"Something's wrong."

Both Smokescreen and Ratchet narrowed their optics at Knock Out's simple and confusing statement.

"What?" Ratchet asked, hoping to get some clarification.

"I don't know how to describe it. I just... I have this feeling. A bad feeling. Something bad is coming. Something very bad."

"We still have no idea what you are talking about," Ratchet said.

"I don't know what I'm talking about. I just _know_ something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late and shorter update, I was at a drag race all day. I should specify that it was a car drag race, and let me just say, it was incredible. But of course, I didn’t get much time to write. Also, my laptop decided to break on me again. I’ve already taken it to get fixed once before, so I really do think it’s time for an upgrade. Regardless, I had to write this on my phone, so it took much longer. Along with that note, please excuse any spelling errors I might have made. They are much harder to catch on a phone. I hope you enjoy anyway :)

“Was I the only one a little extra worried about Smokescreen?” Arcee asked once they were sure the rookie was entirely gone. “He seemed rather reluctant to see Knock Out. You would think the kid would be happier to see Knock Out after so long.”

“I did find that particular detail a little disconcerting as well,” Optimus agreed.

“If you heard what the kid had to say about Knock Out after he first left, it would make a bit more sense,” Wheeljack said. “Only Bulk, Ratchet, and I were there though.”

“Then what did Smokescreen say?” Bumblebee asked.

“He’s scared of Knock Out,” Bulkhead replied. “He said that what Knock Out did reminded him of Megatron.”

“But he also said he didn’t want to be afraid of Knock Out,” Wheeljack added. “He’s living in denial of his fear, but it also seems he doesn’t want to face his fear.”

“The poor kid has so much going on,” Arcee sighed. “I wish there was more we could do for him.”

“There is,” Dreadwing joined in. “Although it is something that is mostly decided by him.”

“Do share,” Wheeljack said, intrigued.

“Talk to him,” Dreadwing answered. “Or, specifically, let him talk to you. That is what I have done. It seemed to have helped him.”

“Wait, wait, Smokescreen went to you,” Bumblebee suddenly intervened. “No offense, but you don’t seem like the first person Smokescreen would go to for a talk.”

“It was more of an accident, if I am being honest. I stumbled upon him and he seemed in need of company, so I stayed with him. He ended up talking. I listened.”

“It’s really that simple, huh?” Bulkhead shrugged.

“Not quite. It still takes him a while to reach that level of trust. Even then, he does not always feel comfortable talking.”

“As long as it is something we can help him with, it will be enough,” Optimus said.

“I just… I just feel so useless,” Bulkhead slumped. “I hate feeling useless.”

“Don’t we all,” Arcee agreed.

“But the issue is still that we have to wait for him to come to us,” Bumblebee pointed out. “He might not even do that, so we still can’t do anything.”

“Have some hope Bee, Smokescreen will come to us if he needs it,” Bulkhead said, patting the smaller bot on the back lightly.

“Besides, if he isn’t coming to us for help, it means he’s doing just fine,” Wheeljack added.

“I…” Dreadwing tensed a bit. “I would not be so sure. He… No. It is not my job to tell you, nor is it my place. I will not overstep my bounds in telling you something he does not wish to be shared.”

Everyone stared with a little disappointment, but Optimus offered a nod of understanding and respect.

“At least we know that we can at least that, even if he doesn’t actually come to us,” Arcee said, transferring the attention away from Dreadwing. “That’s all that matters. We can help.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How bad is _bad?”_ Smokescreen asked.

“Very bad,” Knock Out answered quickly. “Awful. Horrible. Devastating. Catastrophic. You need more?”

“No. I think I’ve got it.”

“We need to do something. If we don’t, it might destroy us all.”

“I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but we don’t even know what _it_ is,” Ratchet pointed out. “What exactly are we supposed to do.”

“I’m trying to figure it all out,” Knock Out said. “I wish my instincts were more precise. I wish I knew what we need to be careful of.”

“That’s the thing about instincts,” Ratchet had gone back to working on Smokescreen. He was a medic, he didn't have time for distraction. “You always trust them, even if you’re never sure why. It’s a good thing to trust them though. We’ll be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary or potentially dangerous.”

“You don’t think two new Predacons are out of the ordinary or potentially dangerous?” Smokescreen asked as he motioned to the injuries sustained by himself and Magnus.

“That is very strange already, but there is clearly something bigger coming, if Knock Out’s instincts are anything to go by.”

“I may not enjoy being a Predacon. My paint job’s been ruined. I live in fear of hurting people. I _have_ hurt people. People I care about. It took a lot of brutal work and training to be able to learn how to control myself. But there’s one thing I have realized about being a Predacon that I never thought about as a regular bot, it’d be that my instincts are here to help me. My gut knows something is wrong before my brain does. A skill I think many would take for granted, or a skill people would completely ignore. Something else I’ve learned… always trust your instincts. They’re always right.”

”Glad to hear it,” Ratchet said. “Now get back to work. If what you feel is coming is as bad as you say, we’ll need Magnus in peak condition.”

”We’ll need everyone,” Knock Out nodded, then quickly picked up the medical tools he had dropped earlier.

”Smokescreen’s mind had begun to wonder, thinking about all the possible disasters that could be coming their way.

some sort of explosion in Cybertron’s core. A group of hostile, rouge Decepticons that come to destroy them. Shockwave cooking up some monster in his lab and preparing to set it loose.

The possibilities were quite endless. The ways everything could go wrong were countless.

_But the return of Megatron didn’t even cross his mind._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! My laptop is working again! I turned it on today it worked just fine, so I guess it was just having an episode. It's all good now though. If it keeps breaking, I will have to get a new one though. Until that happens, I'll have to enjoy working on my old, sometimes functional laptop.

Smokescreen was thankful for Knock Out's instincts as well. They had provided enough of a distraction for Ratchet to be less concerned with giving Smokescreen a full examination and more concerned with just fixing Smokescreen up.

It still seemed that Ratchet was slightly suspicious of Smokescreen, but he never said anything.

Smokescreen was also thankful for Ratchet's respect for privacy and patience. He never pushed Smokescreen further than the rookie could take and he took his time taking care of Smokescreen's health.

Although, Ratchet also thought that Smokescreen was getting better when the reality was quite the opposite.

Smokescreen wondered how much longer he would be able to keep his secret.

Dreadwing knew, but he also wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe he would tell Optimus or Ratchet, but only if they demanded it. Dreadwing would also tell Ratchet if Smokescreen got any worse.

Smokescreen would definitely have to be careful around Dreadwing. The former Decepticon was keeping a close optic on Smokescreen's every move, word, and mannerism. If anything looked out of place, Dreadwing would undoubtedly do something.

Ratchet was also observant. If he watched Smokescreen outside of the medical bay, he might notice a little more.

Smokescreen tried his best to put up a performance in front of everyone else, but no one was perfect.

Occasionally he let his facade slip. Occasionally he drooped his posture, Magnus always noticed. Occasionally he didn't laugh at a joke, Bulkhead always noticed. Occasionally he said no to a race, Bumblebee always noticed. Occasionally he didn't try his best in a spar, Arcee always noticed. Occasionally he was too quiet, Wheeljack always noticed. Occasionally he got lost in thought and didn't focus properly, on scouting missions or just in the base. Optimus _always_ noticed.

But no one said anything. They all either thought it wasn't too disconcerting or they didn't want to say anything.

Smokescreen wasn't sure.

He didn’t know, but he hoped. He desperately hoped that it was the first.

He didn’t want anyone else to find out. It was bad enough with Dreadwing knowing.

Well, not too bad. It could have been a lot worse.

Dreadwing had gotten upset with him, but it wasn’t anything too serious. Dreadwing wasn’t quite attached to Smokescreen like the others were, but if he were, Dreadwing would have likely gotten furious.

Smokescreen could handle Dreadwing’s angry concern, but Ratchet…

If Ratchet found out, it would be a lot worse.

Smokescreen would be required to have more therapy sessions and he would be under the constant care of someone.

Or they could give up on him.

He’s not getting any better. Is it really worth keeping him around?

If he keeps going on like this, it will only be a matter of time before he crosses the line from an asset to a liability.

It would be smart if they got rid of him.

He can barely function around the others, much less so in the field.

Knock Out coming back has seemed to make it better and worse at the same time.

Smokescreen wants to go to Knock Out because he trusts Knock Out… but he’s terrified at the same time.

He wants to go to Ratchet, but he knows Ratchet will start to freak out and act like it’s worse than it really is.

He wants to go to Optimus, but he knows… Primus, he doesn’t even know what Optimus would do. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Surely there would be no harm brought to Smokescreen, Optimus wasn’t like that. But Optimus would be upset. He would be disappointed. He would realize Smokescreen was not worth his time.

He would be abandoned anyway.

Maybe he should go. Maybe he should leave them all behind.

You can’t disappoint people if you aren’t there. You can’t fail people you aren’t with.

If he was gone, it would be for the best… for both parties.

They didn’t deserve a broken bot like him. He didn’t deserve such caring and loving bots like them.

They didn’t know what it was like.

To be under Megatron; tortured and used by him. To be nothing but a toy; completely helpless and weak. To be broken, only to be built back up with such a strong foundation of fear that he would have to be broken all over again for them to fix it.

It would be better if he was gone. Better if they never saw him again, and if he never saw them.

_It’s for the best._

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

Smokescreen looked up to find Wheeljack leaning against the doorway of the room Smokescreen was currently seated in.

The rookie still hadn’t quite gotten used to the layout of the _Nemesis_ , but he wasn’t really trying to begin with. He saw a room with a few chairs and tables, so he sat down.

When Smokescreen didn’t answer, Wheeljack stepped away from the doorway and walked to Smokescreen, pulling up a chair across from the rookie, then sitting down.

“You alright, kid?”

Smokescreen sat completely still for a moment, not speaking, not moving, just staring at his servos as they rested in his lap.

Wheeljack waited. It was surprisingly uncharacteristic of him, but Smokescreen appreciated it.

“Do you..,” Smokescreen finally let out a deep sigh and looked up. “Do you think I should leave?”

Wheeljack stared for a moment, quite surprised by Smokescreen’s question. “Leave? I just got here. You’d really leave me just like that?”

“Not leave the room, I mean… leave…” 

“Us…” Wheeljack finished solemnly with a frown.

Smokescreen nodded.

“I know what it’s like, kid. Just wanting to get away from it all. Needing a break to do your own thing. Needing to figure it all out by yourself. Needing some time alone. I get it.”

Smokescreen looked up to Wheeljack. Now the rookie was the one surprised.

He had expected a much more… disapproving answer.

“I mean it,” Wheeljack continued. “It happens. I understand. I’ve done it on multiple occasions. I just pack my stuff and go. I don’t know where I’m going or when I’m coming back. I don’t need to explain it, I just go.”

“So… you’re saying…”

“I won’t stop ya, kid. It’s your decision to make. I might not like it. Optimus might not like it. Ratchet would definitely not like it. But I can’t stop you. I only ask that you promise me that you aren’t leaving to get away from Ratchet or your trauma.”

“I just want to be alone for a while. I want to take care of my own problems.”

“I hear ya, but let me tell you something. What you’re going through right now would be a hell of a lot worse on your own.” Wheeljack paused. “Think about it. Think about what it will do to you. Think about what it will do to everyone else. Like I said, I might not want you gone, but I can’t stop you. You’re the only one making this decision.”

Wheeljack ended up standing and walking away from Smokescreen. He stopped at the doorway and looked back.

“If you do decide to leave, you just keep driving, and most importantly… don’t look back.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ratchet had sent a message to Smokescreen, telling the rookie that he was late for their weekly therapy session.

Of course, Smokescreen didn't reply.

Ratchet wasn’t overly concerned. This wasn’t the first time Smokescreen had tried to skip out on a meeting.

Ratchet waited a few more minutes, sending more messages to Smokescreen. A few of them ended up running the line of threats.

It wasn’t until _Dreadwing_ walked into the med bay that Ratchet started getting worried.

“Smokescreen… is not in here?” Dreadwing asked, clearly confused and suspicious.

“No, and he hasn’t been here at all. I’m used to him trying to skip out on therapy, but he usually ends up coming anyway. Why do you ask?”

“Because I saw him leaving his room and he said he was going to his meeting with you, but he walked away from the med bay, not towards it. Not to mention that he’s been acting strange lately.”

“Strange how?”

Dreadwing was silent a moment, thinking over whether or not he should tell Ratchet about Smokescreen’s recent endeavor. He sighed.

Ratchet needed to know.

“I… caught Smokescreen…” Dreadwing paused and cleared his throat. “He was… hurting himself.”

Ratchet stared for a moment, optics slowly blowing wide as he straightened his posture.

“What?”

It was soft at first. Quiet as he stood still in disbelief.

“What!”

It was louder this time. The disbelief was gone and now it was something else. Not anger. Ratchet would never be angry at someone that’s hurting themself. Angry at Dreadwing? Maybe. But the most part of it seemed to be an overwhelming amount of concern.

“He’s hurting himself, and you knew!”

Ratchet was definitely angry at Dreadwing.

“You knew and didn’t tell me!”

“In all fairness-“

“Don’t make excuses,” Ratchet quickly snapped. “We need to find him before he does something far worse than just hurt himself. And we need to tell Optimus.”

Ratchet stormed quickly out of the med bay, pushing past Dreadwing and into the hall.

“Ratchet, listen,” Dreadwing followed after the medic. “When I caught Smokescreen, it was his first time. He had not even thought about it beforehand. He was grounded. Knock Out was gone. He had no way to cope. He felt like he was all alone. He was afraid to come to you and he was afraid to come to Optimus. I promised him that I would only tell you if it got worse.”

“You still realize how dangerous that is, don’t you?” Ratchet continued walking, not pausing for a moment.

“It was not too late for him to correct his actions,” Dreadwing continued. “If he fixed the problem then and there, it would not be anything to worry about. There would be no reason to tell you.”

“I understand that you haven”t been with us long and you aren’t officially one of us, but if something like that happens, you tell me.”

“I have dealt with this type of thing before. I know what to do and not to do. If I had told you, I would have broken his trust, only making his suffering worse. He has not hurt himself since the-”

“How can you be sure?” Ratchet stopped walking and turned to look Dreadwing in the optics. “How can you be sure that he isn’t still hurting himself. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. That might not have been the first time. It could have been much worse than what he said. But would I know that? No. Do you know why that is? I do. You. Didn’t. Tell. Me.”

“As I’ve said, I’ve dealt with this before. I made the right call in this instance.”

“Right call? Right call! Smokescreen is _gone._ Does that seem like the right call to you?”

“There is still a possibility that he did not go anywhere. He did not come to your session, but maybe he went to see someone else instead.”

Ratchet rolled his optics and turned around. “We’re wasting time.”

“Knock Out is on this ship and you know how much Smokescreen trusts Knock Out,” Dreadwing followed the medic down the halls once again. “He could have gone to anyone, or anywhere. We have no reason to panic.”

“Everyone knows about when Smokescreen and I have our sessions. If he was with anyone they would contact me. And I am _not_ panicking.”

Dreadwing frowned. “Ratchet-”

“Not another word out of you. This is as much your fault as it is Smokescreen’s… and mine. How did I not notice anything earlier? ”

“Ratchet, this is not your fault.”

“I said not another word.”

“Let me speak.”

Ratchet finally went silent for a moment.

“If you start blaming yourself, the situation will only get worse. If you aren’t thinking straight, we might never be able to reach Smokescreen.”

“How? How can I not blame myself? It is my fault! I’m a medic! I’m supposed to notice these things. I’m supposed to help him. He was hurting and _I_ couldn’t see it. How can I not blame myself when he’s gone and hurt himself! The next thing you know, he’ll have gone and killed himself and it will be _my_ fault!”

"Ratchet! You don't think he would really-"

They turned a corner, but they stopped abruptly when they came face to face with Knock Out.

They all stared at each other for a moment.

"You really think... he'd go as far as- as... suicide?" Knock Out's voice was barely audible and filled with utter pain.

"We _don't_ know that," Dreadwing replied, giving Ratchet a glare.

"But we _do_ know that he is missing," Ratchet returned the glare.

"We don't know that either."

"He never showed up for the meeting. You said you saw him leave. You think he's gone too."

"So what if I do, that does not mean it is true."

"Speaking of... if you saw him leave, why didn't you try to stop him?"

Dreadwing was taken aback. "Now you're back to blaming me?"

"Because this is your fault too! If you had just come to me-"

"We already talked about this! Now we need to stop wasting time and find him!"

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I do believe that I will be able to find him," Knock Out put up a servo between their gazes and waved it to catch their attention. "I too care for Smokescreen, let me help."

"I don't know if you should..." Ratchet mumbled. "It would get too... personal."

"And you being here isn't?" Dreadwing fumed. "Knock Out can find Smokescreen. We _need_ Knock Out to find Smokescreen."

Ratchet grumbled but eventually started walking once again. "Let's go."

"Actually, this way," Knock Out spoke up.

Ratchet looked back.

"This way is faster."

Ratchet and Dreadwing looked at each other.

"You get Optimus," Ratchet ordered. "I'll go with Knock Out."

Dreadwing nodded, then quickly transformed into his jet mode. His wings barely skimmed the walls, but he ignored the close quarters with a quick spin and took off.

Knock Out ended up transforming as well, crouching down for Ratchet.

The older medic was hesitant at first, but he got on.

He was still unused to the feeling of riding on something faster than he was in vehicle mode. He was also unused to the sudden lurch backward he received when Knock Out went into a full sprint.

They had almost run into Arcee in the hallway. She yelled after them, but she quickly realized that it wasn't just for show. She figured something was off.

Ratchet then received a ping shortly after.

 **: What's wrong :** Arcee's message read.

: Smokescreen : Ratchet sent back quickly.

**: Is he alright :**

: I don't know- We're going to find out :

**: Don't let me stop you :**

: Knock Out's going too fast for you too even come close :

**: Don't let me distract you, then :**

: I already have a lot on my mind :

**: Just bring him back safe- Please- I don't know if I can handle another loss right now :**

: None of us can :


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of you watch the new episode of Mandalorian? Pretty stellar if I do say so myself. I'm really hoping that we'll see a lot more other Mandalorians this season. I really want to see Paz again. He only had like, 3 minutes of screen time last season and I don't want him to be dead.

Smokescreen was thrilled to be out of the ship and driving through the open air, going as fast and as far as he wanted.

No Optimus to remind him to follow traffic laws. No Ratchet to tell him that going 150mph was not “taking it easy.” No one but himself and the road.

It was absolutely wonderful.

He probably hadn’t thought it over quite enough. He probably should have planned a little better.

He wouldn’t let that stop him now.

_No regrets._

The second he was out of the ship he drove and he kept driving.

_No looking back._

Just like Wheeljack said.

_Keep going._

This was his decision to make. The others could try all they wanted to bring him back, but this was for the best.

He knew it. They knew.

He couldn’t do anything anymore. He was useless.

He was only a burden for them to carry on their shoulders.

He wouldn’t have to worry about weighing them down out here.

Although, he should have gotten more energon.

He filled up before he left, but that would only be able to last him so long.

If he found somewhere to call a temporary home, then he could recharge and keep his fuel use on low.

He wasn’t sure how far he should go either.

Cybertron was big, but it was also one planet.

If they looked hard enough, they could find him here.

But why would they come looking for him anyway?

They know he’s not worth their time. They know he’s broken. They know he can’t be saved. They know he’d be better off dead _._

**_That’s an idea._ **

Smokescreen slammed to a stop, almost hitting fallen debris in the process.

_That… that is not what I want to do._

**_How can you be sure? They wouldn’t have to worry about you. Isn’t that what you want?_ **

_That doesn’t mean I want to want to be dead._

**_You said it would be better that way._ **

_…_

**_They won’t have to worry._ **

_…_

**_The pain can all go away._ **

_…_

**_You will be free at last._ **

_I am free._

**_But how long will that last? It’s only a matter of time before they find you again._ **

_Then I’ll make sure they don’t._

**_How? Where? You’ve barely been outside of Praxus before the war. What makes you think that you know Cybertron well enough to find a place no one else can find?_ **

Smokescreen slowed down as he approached a ledge.

**_Perfect._ **

Smokescreen sat down, staring at the fading light that brought the pitch-black night.

He just needed some time to think. Some time to process everything going on inside his head currently.

Everything was quiet. He was alone.

The perfect setting to get away from it all.

A loud sound alerted Smokescreen, pulling him away from his moment of peace.

A sound like an engine. A jet one.

Smokescreen groaned as he mentally prepared himself to have to face Dreadwing after the stunt he just pulled.

He should have known Dreadwing would come looking for him.

He was at least hoping he could have had a little more time to himself before Dreadwing found him.

But as Smokescreen turned around, he became quite certain that the jet coming toward him was _not_ Dreadwing.

It didn't look like any Autobot or Decepticon he had seen before. Perhaps it was someone returning to Cybertron. He wasn't too terribly far from the others, so perhaps they were just flying overhead to reach Optimus.

It did look strangely familiar.

Smokescreen couldn't quite place it.

He felt like he knew who it was, but at the same time, it was a completely different person.

He wasn't even sure who he thought it was.

Then they slowed down. They circled over his head, filling Smokescreen with some confusion. Then they lowered, transforming in the process.

A mass of gray metal covered in sharp points and tainted by dark rust landed in front of Smokescreen, causing the rookie to flinch at the loud crash.

The Cybertronian took their time standing up and staring holes into Smokescreen with brilliant purple optics. They smirked, then began to slowly walked forward.

"Isn't this a pleasant surprise~"

Smokescreen felt everything lock up as the familiarity began to set in.

_No. No. No. No._

Those eyes, that voice, that face, that smile, that- that-

His mind went numb and his vocalizer failed him. His optics went out of focus and his intake stopped.

He knew it all... He knew who that was.

_Megatron._

Smokescreen quickly backed up once it hit him.

Megatron kept advancing.

Soon, Smokescreen was at the edge of the cliff and Megatron was still approaching.

_That wasn't possible._

Megatron was _dead._

He watched Megatron die. He watched Megatron fall to Earth. Megatron shouldn't be here.

_Megatron was dead._

Now he was too close. Smokescreen couldn't move anymore. Megatron was too close.

Smokescreen glanced over the ledge.

He had the phase shifter. He's survived worse.

If he jumped...

A servo wrapped around his wrist tightly, pulling him away from the ledge and closer to his worst nightmare.

"Careful~ I wouldn't want you getting hurt."

Smokescreen refused to look up.

It wasn't true. It wasn't true. It-

A finger trailed up and down his door wing.

"I was under the impression that this had been removed."

Smokescreen wouldn't look.

He _couldn't_ look.

The hand on his arm squeezed harder, causing Smokescreen to let out a quiet squeak as he frantically turned to the pain and tried to fight against it.

"It would seem that you still lack some manners. Although... you will prove to be a valuable asset."

Smokescreen finally did it. He finally looked.

He instantly regretted it.

Those purple optics narrowed the second Smokescreen looked into them and the smirk only seemed to grow wider.

"I... I watched you die," Smokescreen barely managed to whisper.

"Yet here I am."

Smokescreen couldn't take it anymore. Something was wrong.

_This wasn't supposed to be happening._

"How are you still alive? I know you died! You're dead!"

Megatron hummed happily as he seemed to completely ignore what Smokescreen said and move from touching Smokescreen's door wing to stroking his spinal strut.

"And you're beautiful~"


	11. Chapter 11

_They were close._

Knock Out sped up.

Smokescreen was close. They could save him.

_Unless…_

_Unless they were already too late._

He didn’t know how long Smokescreen had been gone. He didn’t know what Smokescreen was going through.

_He should have seen it._

He’s supposed to be helping Smokescreen, but he’s only made it worse. He’s only hurt Smokescreen more.

_He’s only failed Smokescreen._

He could have prevented all this.

If only he hadn’t gotten captured. If only he hadn’t lost control. If only he was there.

_I’m sorry._

Knock Out knew it was too late to apologize. He had already been the cause for so much of Smokescreen’s suffering. He had hoped that maybe he would be able to make it all up. Maybe he could make it all fight. Maybe he could make everything go back to normal.

A little too late for that.

Nothing could go back to being normal again.

Everything was already too far gone.

Everything was already broken beyond comparison.

 _Everything_.

Knock Out was tired of hoping. He was tired of being an optimist. He was tired of acting like it was all going to be fine. Acting like it wasn’t all his fault.

Because it wasn’t going right. It wasn’t going to be fine. It was _his fault._

The smell was getting stronger. Smokescreen was getting closer.

Maybe they would be able to save him.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

_Faster. Faster. Faster._

Knock Out had to make it. He had to make it to Smokescreen. He had to _save_ Smokescreen.

_Please._

He _had_ to save Smokescreen.

He would be devastated.

Knock Out realized just what was in front of them.

_A ledge._

Smokescreen's smell was strong, like Smokescreen lingered here for some time.

But Smokescreen...

He was nowhere.

Knock Out slowed down, scanning the area and sniffing desperately.

Where was Smokescreen?

Knock Out ended up lowering himself to the ground and allowing Ratchet to dismount before he continued his search.

"Is this where..." Ratchet trailed off.

Knock Out whined desperately as he dug through debris and wandered the area.

Smokescreen was here. Smokescreen had likely been here until moments ago. Smokescreen's scent and lingering aura were so strong, but Smokescreen himself was just... _gone._

Ratchet ended up moving closer to the ledge.

Knock Out didn't want to go there. He didn't want to see what could possibly be waiting at the bottom.

He instead opted to watch Ratchet do what he couldn't.

Although, Ratchet's face twisted in confusion and his optics narrowed and scanned the ground below over and over.

"He's not..."

Now Knock Out was curious.

He stepped up next to Ratchet and looked down, though hesitantly.

It was true.

Smokescreen was gone. Smokescreen's scent was gone.

It meant that Smokescreen had never left here. It meant that he was _still_ here.

But there was nothing down there. The ledge wasn't even deep enough to do much serious damage.

There was no possible way Smokescreen was dead.

_Not by his own means at least._

There was another smell.

Someone else was here.

Someone else was with Smokescreen.

It was familiar.

Not too familiar, but someone, Knock Out knew he recognized it.

_Somehow._

He knew the smell.

"Where is he?" Ratchett asked.

Knock Out continued staring.

"I... I don't know. His scent... it's gone. I don't know where it went. I can't detect him at all anymore."

"What happened here?"

"There is... there is another scent. I'm not quite sure who it belongs to, but it seems oddly familiar."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Knock Out closed his eyes, trying to hone in on the other person that was here.

It was on the tip of his glossa. He knew who it was. He _knew_ who was with Smokescreen, but he didn't know.

_Who? Who was it?_

He shook his head desperately.

_Who was it?_

"I-"

Knock Out took in another deep breath and collapsed to his knees.

_It... it was..._

"Knock Out," Ratchet stared in surprise at the know fallen Predacon.

It... it couldn't be.

He was dead.

_Why did he smell Megatron?_

"Megatron is dead, right?" Knock Out asked softly.

"Yes, I watched his spark die myself. He was dead."

_Then why?_

"Then why was Megatron here?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dreadwing was quite familiar with the halls of the _Nemesis._ He had lived on the ship for many years during the war and now he was here once again.

It felt strange.

A good strange.

The war was over and Megatron was dead. He was back on the _Nemesis,_ but it wasn't because he was part of the Decepticon. It was because he wasn't.

Sometimes Dreadwing wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't decided to betray Megatron.

He would likely be locked up like the surviving Eradicons and Vehicons had been.

And what if he never listened to Knock Out's advice? If he did end up going back to that ship to exact his revenge on Starscream.

He would likely be dead.

And if he were dead, he wouldn't be here right now.

If he wasn't here... he could only imagine where Smokescreen would be.

Smokescreen would have hurt himself. And he would have continued to hurt himself.

Now was not the time to dwell on what it could have been.

Smokescreen was still in danger.

Smokescreen was still gone.

Dreadwing took a sharp turn and ended up at the bridge.

Optimus seemed almost surprised at his arrival. Though the Prime never seemed to show any expression, it seemed almost obvious at the way Optimus glanced at him once, then back again.

Dreadwing transformed and approached quickly.

Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack were currently in the bridge as well, their attention was also caught by the former Decepticon's determination in reaching Optimus.

"Dreadwing, what is going on?"

"Smokescreen is gone."

Optimus turned his head slightly.

"He left the ship and we do not know where he is... Ratchet fears the worst."

"'Worst' meaning....?" Bulkhead interrupted.

"He might be going to hurt himself. Or... kill himself."

Everyone's optics seemed to go wide.

"Wait, wait, wait," Wheeljack spoke up. "You sure about that? Smokescreen seemed just fine earlier."

"Completely sure. Ratchet and Knock Out are currently in pursuit, but Ratchet thought it best if I informed you on the matter. I could not help but agree."

Optimus put a digit up to his audial receptors to activate his comms.

"Ratchet, Dreadwing has just informed me of the situation. What is your current location? And have you found Smokescreen?"

There was a moment of silence before Ratchet replied.

**"We're by a series of ledges..."**

A sudden, grim aura settled in the room. Everyone stood straighter as the words seemed to echo through the entire ship.

Optimus prepared himself for the next words to come out of Ratchet's mouth.

He knew where this was going.

**"Smokescreen's trail ended here."**

"I understand."

**"But-"**

There was a spark of hope in everyone's sparks now.

**"Smokescreen isn't here."**

"What?"

Blatant shock wasn't something that was often expressed by Optimus.

**"He's not here and we don't know where he is. His trail _ended_. We can't find him."**

"So he is still alive?"

**"Well, we don't know for sure yet, but we know he is not dead _here._ "**

"That is good to hear, at least. It means that he could possibly be alive and well."

 **"Oh, one more thing,"** It was Knock Out's voice this time. **"Smokescreen's trail ended here, but there is more. Nothing concrete, but there is a smell here. One that doesn't belong to Smokescreen, but one that is very familiar."**

"There was someone with him?"

**"So it would seem."**

"Do you know who?"

**"Well, I know, but it seems very unlikely that it is possible."**

"And why is that?"

**"Because last time I checked, Megatron was dead."**


	12. Chapter 12

"Megatron!" Bumblebee shouted. "That's impossible. I killed him."

 **“And I watched you,”** Ratchet tagged on.

 **“Yet here we are,”** Knock Out said. **“Smokescreen is gone and Megatron is somehow back.”**

“Wait, do you think it’s possible that if, somehow, Megatron _was_ alive, that he could have possibly _found_ Smokescreen?” Wheeljack questioned. "And if he found Smokescreen... Well, I can only assume what would happen, given their previous experience and interactions."

Another silence flooded the room and the other side of the commlink.

Then at last it was broken.

 **“Oh dear,”** Ratchet breathed out softly.

 **“We got to find him. Now,”** Knock Out said quickly. **“You go back to base, Ratchet. I'll find Predaking. His flight will be more useful in hunting down Megatron and he will be much more efficient in tracking Smokescreen. Not to mention that he's better in a fight.”**

**"Right."**

**"This is not good. Smokescreen is in big trouble. I don't even want to get started thinking of what Megatron might have up his sleeve this time around. It's definitely not going to be good."**

“We will assist," Optimus said. “Smokescreen is in great danger. We need to find him and save him before it’s too late and Megatron does something we will not be able to repair. ”

 **“We’re on it,”** Knock Out said, then the comm line went silent.

“This is bad,” Bulkhead murmured. “This is _really_ bad.”

“This is the third time he’s been taken by Megatron,” Bumblebee pointed out. “The first time he had Knock Out. The second time he had Knock Out and Ratchet. This time he’s got Megatron, and I have a feeling Megatron isn’t going to be as generous as Knock Out was.”

“Megatron will not kill him, at least," Dreadwing murmured.

"What makes you say that?" Wheeljack asked. "Megatron is a ruthless murderer. He's a psychopath. What makes you think he won't kill Smokescreen?"

"He may be a psychopath, but he still has some sense," Dreadwing explained. "He is alone right now. He needs someone by his side. Who better to recruit than the person that can not say no to you because they fear you too much? He will not kill Smokescreen because he needs Smokescreen. Not to mention killing Smokescreen would ruin all the hard work he did trying to convert Smokescreen in the first place. I know he will not kill Smokescreen, but I can not promise that Smokescreen will remain on your side much longer. His fear of Megatron might soon outweigh his love of friendship."

Silence seemed to be favoring them today.

"Well, we can't stand here forever thinkin' of ways to save Smokey," Wheeljack pointed out. "Let's get a move on."

Dreadwing nodded in agreement. "The sooner we find them, the better chance we have of pulling Smokescreen out of the pit he is in before he falls too deep."

"Wheeljack and Dreadwing, you take the skies," Optimus instructed. "Look for any sign of either Smokescreen or Megatron. The rest of us will watch the scanners and search on the ground."

Everyone understood the gravity of the situation. Smokescreen's life might not be at stake, but he was in danger. There was no guarantee that Megatron would not hurt him. There was no guarantee that Smokescreen would remain strong in his loyalties.

Megatron was persuasive.

Smokescreen was broken.

Megatron could fill in the cracks once again.

Smokescreen would follow Megatron's orders.

It was only a matter of time.

Time they no longer had.

Wheeljack took to Dreadwing's side and they went out together to get to the _Jackhammer_ and the flight deck.

"Sorry about all this," Wheeljack said.

Dreadwing looked down at the Wrecker. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because Smokescreen may or may not have come to me before he left?"

"And...?"

"He asked me if he should leave."

"Please do not tell me that you told him to leave."

"No! No. I wouldn't... I could never tell him to leave."

"Then what did you tell him?"

"I just told him that I wouldn't stop him if he did leave."

Dreadwing stared.

"Now that I think back on it, I realize that it probably wasn't the best thing to say, but it felt right. Smokescreen didn't need to be told what to do. He didn't need to be told what he wanted to hear. I know what it's like to just get away from everything. I understood what he was saying and where he was coming from. He needed to know that we don't control him. He needed to know that he can do things on his own and not get in trouble for it. He needed to know that he could leave."

"I think you did the right thing. He did need to hear that. It is important that he did. You were likely not the deciding factor in his leaving."

"I still feel like I'm part of it."

"We are all part of it. Every single one of is can be held responsible."

"That's why every single one of us has to save him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do we do? What _do we do_ _?"_ Knock Out had started pacing.

"First, you calm down," Ratchet replied. "Then we talk it over and figure it out."

"But Smokescreen's _gone._ Megatron took him. Megatron. Megatron... Ratchet, you know what Megatron will do to him? I do. I was there. He'll torture Smokescreen. Smokescreen can't handle going back to Megatron. How could I let this happen? Why didn't I stop him?"

"Knock Out, this is not your fault. We are all to blame. Do not put the pressure on yourself because of something we all could have prevented. Now calm down so we can do this the right way. If you do not focus, you will not be able to do it _right._ "

Ratchet put a hand on Knock Out's shoulder to try and calm down the Predacon.

"We will find Smokescreen. We will save him."

Knock Out nodded as he began taking in deep breaths to control his emotions.

"I'm going back to the others, you get to Predaking," Ratchet removed his hand. "Will you be able to do that on your own?"

Knock Out nodded.

"Alright. Good luck, and be careful," Ratchet transformed.

"You as well," Knock Out replied.

Ratchet drove back to the _Nemesis_ and Knock Out remained on the ledge for a moment longer.

Knock Out shut his optics and took in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," Knock Out sighed. "I was too late. I didn't see it until it was too late. I should have helped you sooner. Once we get you back, I'll leave to live with Predaking once again. That will be good for you. I won't be able to screw anything else up that way."

He sighed again.

"You don't deserve to be tortured by Megatron again. You definitely don't deserve to be forced to spend time with someone that reminds you of Megatron. I'll save you. I'll save you as many times as you need. I'll keep saving you until you don't need saving any more. Even then, I'll keep trying to save you."

He stared over the ledge a moment longer.

"Don't worry Smokescreen, I'm coming."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably didn't write Unicron completely in character, but I did my best. I hope you enjoy anyway. Let me know what you think.

Smokescreen was relatively sure they were at Megatron’s old base.

The massive throne was a big clue.

“Follow me,” Megatron ordered.

Smokescreen realized he had been standing still too long.

He didn’t want to follow Megatron. He didn’t want to be here.

Yet he could find the strength to run away. He couldn’t find the strength to speak up. He couldn’t find the strength to say no.

So he followed Megatron into the fortress.

“I have realized that you will make a powerful asset,” Megatron began explaining. “Though you are smaller and often impulsive, you know how to use the phase shifter well. Not to mention that the Autobots will not lay a digit on you, even if you are to harm them.”

Smokescreen stopped walking.

Megatron stopped and looked back at him.

Smokescreen shook his head. “I-I won’t hu-hurt my friends.”

Megatron cocked his head. “Oh? Friends? You think of them as friends?”

Smokescreen nodded gently.

Megatron laughed and took a step forward.

Smokescreen took a step back.

“Really? The Autobots are your friends? Even when they have left you on your own? Not once, but twice. Now a third time. If they are your friends, then where are they?”

“They-they’re looking for m-me. I-I know th-they are.”

“Face it, my dear Smokescreen. They do not care about you. In your optics, they might appear to be ‘friends,’ but it is an illusion. They are not your friends. They are not looking. They are not coming.”

Smokescreen’s door wings drooped and a sudden fear came over him as Megatron got closer.

He started shaking and his legs locked, knees buckling beneath him and folding him forward.

A large and clawed servo caught him, pulled him back to his feet, and held him steady.

“Do not worry,” Megatron pulled Smokescreen closer to himself. “I am here. I will care for you. I will do what they have not. I will not abandon you. I will help you if you are willing to join me.”

The way he spoke was gentle, nothing like the voice of a former conqueror and warlord. It was almost like Megatron… was being genuine.

But why would Megatron even suggest such a thing?

“Will you stand by my side?”

After all Megatron’s done to hurt and break him, why would Megatron even _begin_ to think that Smokescreen would join him?

“Why…” Smokescreen managed to squeak out softly. “You think I-I would join you? You think I would _stand_ by you. You a-are cruel and evil. You ha-have done nothing but-t hurt me. You raped me. You scraped and scratched me. You ripped off my door wing. You tried to pull out my spark. You tore me _apart._ You have no right to even ask.”

Megatron stared for a moment, but then his optics seemed to light up with sudden realization.

“Ah. I see where your confusion is coming from now.”

Smokescreen scowled. Clearly, Megatron was the confused one.

“You see, although I inhabit the body of Megatron and now rule his mind, I am not the one that has harmed you. I am not Megatron. I am Unicron. The Destroyer. The Chaos Bringer. Lord of the Un-Dead. You are to address me as such. Now, I believe I asked you a question.”

"Megatron or not, I will _never_ join you. I will not betray my friends."

“I was hoping we could do this the easy way,” Unicron frowned.

“Well, you hoped wrong because if even _think_ that I-"

Unicron wrapped a hand around Smokescreen’s throat, shutting the Autobot up quickly.

“You talk too much,” Unicron growled, squeezing harder and lifting Smokescreen up so that he could barely scrape the floor with his pedes. “Now listen closely to me. I asked you once and I will not ask again. I tried doing this the easy way, but you did not let me.”

Smokescreen pushed his hands against Unicron’s arm to try and free himself. Unicron didn’t budge.

“So I’ll be forced to do this the hard way.”

Smokescreen wasn’t about to let whatever the ‘hard way’ was happen. If he could activate the phase shifter…

No, he would just end up taking Unicron with him.

But he needed to get out. He wouldn’t go through this again. He wouldn’t be captured again. He wouldn’t be tortured again.

He _couldn’t_ go through this again.

_Not again._

Smokescreen kicked at Unicron’s chest.

He had to get away.

Unicron scowled, then turned and slammed Smokescreen to the wall.

Smokescreen let out a choked whimper as his door wings were bent and pinned beneath him.

A shot of pain ran through his joints, especially his freshly healed one.

“Stop struggling and it will stop hurting,” Unicron demanded.

The orders struck Smokescreen and he stopped.

He didn’t want to. He wanted to escape, but he couldn't.

His fear outweighed his freedom.

If he listened now, maybe it would be easier on him later. Maybe if he obeyed, he wouldn’t get hurt.

He’s had enough of getting hurt.

“There we go.”

Unicron’s grip loosened and Smokescreen was no longer pinned.

He coughed as he rubbed his throat to soothe out the pain Unicron left.

“Because you so blatantly refused my offer the first time, I will switch to different methods of persuasion.”

There was then a hand at the base of each of his door wings.

“I hear these are convincing.”

Smokescreen stiffened and went still as Unicron began to play with his wings, moving them back and forth and up and down.

Then he let go.

“But they suit you. I would not want to remove them.”

Unicron hummed in though as one of his hands then traveled over Smokescreen’s new scars.

His shoulder, his face, his chest.

Then it settled on his wrist, turning the rookie’s arm over to examine it closer.

Smokescreen’s optics widened in horror.

_How did Unicron know? How could he possibly know?_

Unicron looked Smokescreen in the optic. His gaze was much softer than it had been moments ago.

“You have been hurting yourself.”

Smokescreen tried to pull his arm away, Unicron’s grip only tightened.

“Self-harm does you nothing,” Unicron explained. “It gets you nowhere. You face your problems head-on, not from your closet. Go forward as a victor, not a victim.”

Smokescreen stared.

He expected this sort of speech from Ratchet or Optimus, not Unicron. The Destroyer. The Chaos Bringing. The Lord of the Un-Dead.

“Allow me to assist.”

Smokescreen watched in awe as he saw a flow of purple energy emerge from Unicron’s hand and begin to slowly seep between his plating.

There was nothing at first, then it felt like a sudden burst of power tore through his systems. It began in his arm, then it ran through the rest of his body.

It burned, but it wasn’t painful. It was… strange. It felt like his entire frame surged with a strength that was not his own.

Then it settled in his spark.

That’s when it really started to burn.

Smokescreen hunched over and put a hand to his chest and clutched at it in hopes of somehow stopping the pain.

“There we are. Much better.”

“What was that-t? Wha-what did y-you do?”

“Dark Energon is what it was.”

Smokescreen froze. “What?”

“And heal you is what it did.”

“What?” Smokescreen repeated. “But- but- but _Dark Energon_ \- that’s the-that’s the stuff Megatron used to bring people back from the dead. That’s the stuff he used to control people. Dark Energon is not good for bots not designed for it. That stuff could _kill_ me.”

“That is not the only purpose my blood serves. While Megatron did use it that way, I have not. When used correctly, anything is possible, even healing. And it will not kill you in such a small dosage.”

“I… I had no idea,” Smokescreen muttered as he ran hands across where his scars used to be.

They were all gone. From his face to his shoulder, his door wing to chassis. They were no longer there. Not even Ratchet could have fixed them that well.

_What else is Dark Energon capable of?_

"Why are you healing me?"

"Did you not want me to?" Unicron held up a set of claws. "I can always redo the damage if you would like."

Smokescreen's door wings fell in fear and he backed up until he hit the wall again. He put his hands out in front of him like they would somehow protect him from a being more powerful than anyone other than Primus.

"No! I-I mean, it's not th-that I'm not-t grateful. I ju-just don't know _why._ You're my enemy. You-you shouldn't be help-ping me. So why?"

"Perhaps you did not hear me the first time. I said I want you by my side."

"I never said I was going to join you. Not to mention that you still didn't answer-"

A sharp digit was forced between Smokescreen's lips.

"I believe I have already told you that you talk too much. I will have to do something about that."

Smokescreen choked around the claw in his mouth. Trying to cough up air, but it ended up going nowhere.

He needed to breath.

his optics began to sting from the urge to leak coolant tears.

He needed to breath.

Smokescreen tried to pull away, but once Unicron pushed and rubbed against Smokescreen's glossa, the rookie froze, letting the Chaos Bringer have his way.

Unicron watched Smokescreen's actions with mild intrigue.

"But for now... I will answer your question. I am sure you have heard the phrase 'the bigger they are, the harder the fall.' There is a phrase similar to that one. It goes something like-"

A second digit fought its way into Smokescreen's mouth.

"-The prettier they look, the better they break."


	14. Chapter 14

Knock Out found Predaking in his usual lair.

The other Predacon had his back to the entrance and a scowl on his face. He was covered with injuries.

"Predaking, there's bad news," Knock Out said the moment he walked in.

"Does this bad news happen to be named 'Megatron is actually alive?'"

"Yes- wait, how do you know?"

"You do not think I just got caught in a- what do the fleshlings call it- a blender? I got these injures somewhere. Now, I would like you to take your best guess, provided the information you know."

"So you found him?"

"He found me. Then he had the _gall_ to ask me to join him. After I refused, he fought back."

"Well, you are no the only one to have encountered him."

"I did not think so. Who else has he attacked?"

"Well, as far as attacked go, I am unsure, but... he has kidnapped Smokescreen."

"Ah yes, the one you are bonded to."

"No- we're- we're not _bonded,_ " Knock Out sputtered at the claim.

Predaking narrowed his optics.

"I... I do _care_ for him... deeply. His loss would devastate me. But we... we are not bonded."

"Do you wish to be?"

Knock Out sputtered again. "Well- that... that's not entirely up for me to decide. I would not do anything he did not wish. I would not bond unless that is what he wanted."

"But do _you_ want it?"

"I..." Knock Out looked down.

Love was a sensitive topic.

_Especially after Breakdown._

He and Breakdown weren't bonded, but it was something that he believed both of them wanted.

They were going to wait until the war was over before they took their relationship further.

But then Breakdown...

"I don't see what this has to do with Smokescreen being taken," Knock Out changed the subject quickly.

Predaking rolled his optics. "What it has to do with Smokescreen being taken is the fact that he is important to you. Bonded or not. Now, let me guess, you would like me to help you search for him."

"It would be very appreciated if you did."

"I am always willing to help a brother in need, but-" Predaking sighed and held on of his energon soaked arms. "- I am in no condition to be of service."

"Ha! Then it's a good thing I just so happen to be a medic."

Predaking lowered his arm and allowed Knock Out to take it instead.

"I will help you find him and Megatron," Predaking said as Knock Out began his work. "I will help you fight against Megatron to save Smokescreen."

"Thank you."

"But there is a warning I must give before we begin this endeavor."

Knock Out looked up, but didn't stop mending Predaking's wounds.

"Megatron... did not seem like himself."

"How so?"

"He was different. He looked different. He smelled different. his entire presence was... off. His strength was greater than before. he was more powerful than he has ever been. He is Megatron, but someone else entirely. He is alive and he has changed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wheeljack flew above Dreadwing in the _Jackhammer._

It was much easier for Dreadwing to maneuver through rubble and destroyed buildings than it was for Wheeljack.

The Wrecker had thought about choosing a plane or jet as his vehicle mode.

And now he was thinking about it once again.

There was no rule that said Autobots had to be cars and Decepticons had to be planes.

Whirl was an Autobot, although be it a rebellious one, and he was a helicopter. There were plenty of other Autobots that were not cars.

Plus, now that the war was over, they didn't really have _sides._ He could be whatever he wanted.

He'd have to take a visit to Earth soon and find a new alt mode.

He wouldn't have to worry about the _Jackhammer_ breaking down or crashing if he was his own ship.

 **"You see any signs of them?"** Dreadwing asked.

It felt like they had been searching for days. In reality, they had only been out for less than two earth hours.

They didn't expect to find anything yet.

That's how it goes. You can be searching for every building and every street, but it's not that simple.

If someone _does not_ want to be found, they will do everything they can to ensure they hidden.

And the opposite, if they _do_ want to be found, they will do everything they are seen.

Megatron most certainly does not want to be found. They would have found him otherwise.

Megatron's always been good at making a scene.

"Nothing. You?"

**"No. Anything on the scanner?"**

"Nope. Just us."

Dreadwing dipped under a half-destroyed archway, then he rose up to match with the _Jackhammer._

**"Nightfall will be upon us soon."**

Wheeljack looked to where the light was slowly fading behind the horizon.

"Looks like it."

**"Once we lose our light, it would be best to stop for the night."**

"Searching at night might be better. It means they won't be on the move."

**"Fair enough. We will need to stop at some point to get at least some recharge."**

Wheeljack laughed. "You enjoy that, I'll be looking for Smokescreen."

There was a pause from Dreadwing. **"Do you not require recharge?"**

"I can survive without it just fine. Some people are just created differently."

**"That may be true, but I know all bots need rest."**

Wheeljack stared awkwardly at his servos on the steering of the _Jackhammer._

**"Wheeljack, when is the last time you recharged?"**

"Last night."

**"Liar."**

"Shut up."

**"Wheeljack."**

"Last time I checked, you weren't Ratchet."

**"Wheeljack, if you are not recharging-"**

"I said I don't need it."

**"Wheeljack-"**

"Drop it."

**"We're stopping whether you like it or not. You will recharge. You _need_ to recharge."**

"I _said_... Drop. It."

**"Why is it that I am always the one that catches people doing what they are not supposed to?"**

"What's that supposed to mean?"

**"I thought you wanted to drop it."**

"Ha, ha."

**"How about a deal. You promise to recharge tonight and I'll tell you what I meant."**

Wheeljack grumbled.

**"Well?"**

"Fine. Deal."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _thoroughly _enjoyed writing this__

_Wheeljack slowly approached the mass on the ground of the dark, metal room._

_The entirety of the destroyed body was almost completely coated in bright blue. It made it near impossible to determine the original color of the frame._

_Although Wheeljack had an idea._

_The same bright blue pooled around the body and stained the floor._

_Dreadwing carefully followed behind the Wrecker._

_Something didn't seem right. This all felt too easy._

_Where was Megatron? Where were they?_

_Was that...?_

_They remained silent as they took in the scene, however strange it felt._

_The body was in the middle of the room, face down. The door wings were removed, leaving just the joint stubs and loose wires. The wings hung from the ceiling by chains. A gruesome sight to be sure. The right leg was half ripped off, only hanging on by frayed wiring. His forarms looked like they had been completely crushed beneath the strong hands of the former gladiator. His plating bent, dented and destroyed. There was barely any of it left on his actual frame._

_But that, somehow, wasn’t even the worst of it._

_Something boiled deep inside Wheeljack as he noticed the torn away interface panel and the stream of fluids leaking out._

_Not again._

_Megatron was ruthless to put him through something like that._

_This still felt all wrong._

_They were so close._

**_Yet so_ _far._ **

_Wheeljack gave Dreadwing a cautious look over his shoulder, asking the silent question ‘should I approach.’_

_Dreadwing nodded slowly, not taking his optics off the sight in front of them._

_And what a sight it was._

**_A horrific_ _one._ **

_One to add to the stacks of nightmare fuel. One to haunt for Wheeljack for some time._

_The Wrecker took a step forward. Then another._

_The closer he got, the more detail he could see._

_And the more he wondered if this was who he was beginning to think it was._

_He had his suspicions, but he didn't want to believe it was true._

_But if it was who he thought it was, Wheeljack wanted to know…_

**_What happened?_ **

_He needed to know. And he needed to let the others know._

_**If** it was who he thought it was. _

_The door wings were a big giveaway, but that didn’t mean it was…_

_Primus, Wheeljack didn’t even want to think it._

_He didn’t want it to be true._

_The bot was on his back, so there was no way to tell for sure._

_Wheeljack knelt down in the energon pool, servos carefully grabbing onto the sides of the bot to avoid touching any of the major wounds, then slowly rolling him onto his back._

_The one thing the lack of door wings made easier._

_But Wheeljack almost dropped the body when he saw the front side._

_He didn’t think it could get worse._

_But he clearly stood corrected._

_The face was mutilated. Just looking at the right side of his face made it impossible to tell who it was. Claw marks had streaked from the top of the helm down to the throat. One optic was torn clean out and a broken voice box and more energon covered wires exposed._

_The other side of the face was hardly touched, although it was covered in energon, much like the rest of him._

_It also confirmed Wheeljack’s worst fear._

_Wheeljack forced himself to look away from the face. He couldn't look at this._

_He tried his best to ignore the remaining injuries, but his optics ended up landing on the chassis… or the lack of one, rather._

_Almost his entire chassis was missing. Wheeljack wasn’t sure_ **_where_** _it was, but it sure as hell wasn’t_ _ **here**. _

_The removed plating gave Wheeljack a perfect view of all of the mangled gears, parts, wires, and systems._

_Everything from his T-cog to his engine. His fuel storage to his ventilation system. His spark to his…_

_…_

_It… was dim..._

_No._

_It was **dark**_.

_It was too dark._

_No light was produced by the very life source of all Cybertronians._

_No light produced by the very life source of_ ** _this_** _Cybertronian in particular._

_He knew what that meant._

_Wheeljack felt like everything slowed down in that exact moment._

_This was wrong. This was so wrong._

_He put a fist to his mouth and forced himself to look away from the body._

_What had started boiling earlier had now started melting Wheeljack from the inside._

_Wheeljack was by no means squeamish. He’s used to seeing bots destroyed. He’s used to seeing bots covered in energon. He wasn’t normally bothered by something like this. He had a strong mind and an even stronger gut. It was something he was proud of._

_Yet he felt like he was going to purge._

_This was…_

_“Smokescreen…?” Wheeljack’s voice started shaking._

_This had never happened before._

_Wheeljack didn't get upset about things like this._

_He sucked it up and moved on._

_But this…_

_This was a_ _**kid**. This was someone too young to be plagued by the horrors of war. This was someone that was too young to be in this position. _

_Too young to die._

_This was Smokescreen._

_“We should… we should tell the others,” Dreadwing whispered._

_The others needed to know. They needed to know what happened._

_They needed to know that no victory was without loss. They needed to know that even in times of Peace, people die._

_Wheeljack cleared his throat in an attempt to keep himself from doing something he would regret._

_Like crying._

_No point in crying over spilt energon._

_What’s happened is already over. There is nothing they could do. There is nothing he could have done._

_It was too late. They were too late._

_If they had gotten here sooner... If they had kept searching..._

_Wheeljack stood slowly, staring at the energon staining his servos and knees._

_He’d never be able to wash it off._

_Not this time._

_“Come on,” Dreadwing urged softly._

_Wheeljack glanced at Smokescreen one last time._

_“Sorry kid. It was too soon for you. You didn't deserve this. We didn't deserve you. You were always too good for us. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I-”_

_Then he straightened his posture and cleared his throat again. He looked up to Dreadwing and nodded._

_“I’m ready.”_

_Wheeljack tried to step forward, but something held him back._

_The weight of loss…_

_Wheeljack looked down._

_… or the fact that Smokescreen was holding onto his leg with strength that defied his condition._

_Wheeljack felt his spark nearly leap out of his chamber in a sudden burst of elation._

_Smokescreen wasn't dead._

_Not yet, at least._

_“Smokescreen! You’re alive! Dreadwing! Get over here to help m-“_

_Wheeljack turned and found that Dreadwing there._

_He was right there a moment ago. He was right by that doorway._

_But there was no doorway. It was gone._

_The room began to fade away. It turned into black nothingness._

_“Dreadwing?”_

_Wheeljack frantically looked around for any sign of anyone._

_“It’s just… you…”_

_Wheeljack turned around quickly._

_Smokescreen stood behind him. Energon dripped from every opening in the destroyed plating. Smokescreen took a step forward, his destroyed leg folded beneath him, but his healthier leg caught him before he could fall. The scraping of ripped metal against more ripped metal as he moved was high pitched and nearly forced Wheeljack to cover his audial receptors. The sound thankfully stopped as Smokescreen stood only a few feet in front of Wheeljack now._

_Wheeljack's gaze was stuck on Smokescreen's open chest. His spark was still dark, but all of Smokescreen's other systems were running with a sound similar to the one the_ Jackhammer _made when it took a bad hit. His wires sparked and His gears turned. His fuel tanks began to pump, which only led to more energon rushing out of everywhere._

_Wheeljack then found himself looking Smokescreen in the optics._

_**Optic,** Wheeljack reminded himself._

_A shiver was sent through Wheeljack's spinal strut as he a was faced with Smokescreen's single optic that now glowed and eerie purple instead of it's familiar blue._

_“You are all... alone…”_

_Smokescreen's mouth did not move as he spoke, but his spark lit up in a similar purple with each word_ _, then it returned to a dull gray in the silence._

_The voice was not Smokescreen's either. It sounded like it was the voice was made of the voices of three different people._

_One was most certainly Smokescreen. The other was Megatron. But the third?_

_Wheeljack could not tell._

_But this was wrong._

_Smokescreen was dead._

_If a spark had gone dark, it meant they were dead._

**_So how was Smokescreen alive?_ **

_“What..." Wheeljack was almost afraid to ask. "What happened?"_

_“What happened…? Funny… you should ask... that...”_

_“What?”_

_“This… this is your fault…”_

_“Smokescreen, what are you talking about? Megatron did this to you. Megatron tore you apart.”_

_“Your… fault…”_

_Wheeljack opened his mouth, then closed it again went Smokescreen took another broken step forward._

_“You could… have saved me…”_

_“I am here to save you. I’m right here.”_

_“You… were too late…”_

_“Smokescreen, don’t give me that. I can… I can still save you. I can get Ratchet. You’re gonna be okay kid.”_

_“You… you let me die…”_

_“You’re not dead yet.”_

_“I… I came to you… You let me… you let me leave… You let me die...”_

_More voices seemed to join the one._

_Wheeljack’s optics widened._

_He had… hadn’t he?_

_Smokescreen came to him seeking comfort. Wheeljack should have stopped Smokescreen. He should have kept him right there._

_But now… Smokescreen left and was on the brink of death._

_“I…” Wheeljack wasn’t even sure what to say._

_Smokescreen was right._

_“This… is your fault…”_

_He heard Ratchet._

**_This was his fault._ **

_“You… you were too late...”_

_He heard Dreadwing._

**_He was too late._ **

_“You killed me.”_

_The voice now belonged solely to Smokescreen._

**_He killed Smokescreen._ **

_“Now I… will kill you.”_

_He heard himself._

_A burning pain burst through Wheeljack’s chest. It felt like his spark was melting. He opened his mouth to cry out in pain, but found nothing came out._

_I’m sorry Smokescreen._

_This all my fault._

_I’m the reason you’re dead._

_I-_

Wheeljack jolted awake, a servo shot immediately to his chest. His spark was still there.

He took a deep breath and looked up.

He was on the _Jackhammer._ Right.

He and Dreadwing had stopped their search to recharge.

Wheeljack pulled up his sleep logs. He only rested for a little more than an Earthen hour. Not quite a cycle, but more than a groon.

Normaly, he would be just fine with that, but ge still felt tired, likely because of the nightmare. It would suffice.

Some recharge is better than no recharge at all.

He’s gone on less amounts of sleep before and could work just fine.

It was nothing new.

Wheeljack spun around in the chair he had chosen to rest in and found Dreadwing still in deep recharge against the wall.

Wheeljack had offered him the pilot’s seat, but Dreadwing refused and continued to refuse every time Wheeljack brought it up.

Dreadwing was stubborn.

And definitely not going to be willing to get back to searching for Smokescreen after barely enough time to be able to properly function.

He figured some extra recharge wouldn’t hurt.

It’s not like he had anything better to do.

Wheeljack offlined his optics, only to be greeted with the disfigured and torn apart face of Smokescreen. The purple optic burned into him.

_“You killed me.”_

Wheeljack’s optics came back online in an instant and he got out of the chair immediately. He marched over to Dreadwing, delivering a hard kick to the leg of the mech.

Dreadwing jerked online, reaching for the large gun resting at his shoulder, but he stopped and sighed once he realized it was just Wheeljack.

“Get up.”

Dreadwing stared at him, optics still focusing after his sudden awakening.

“Come on.”

“How long have we been recharging?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Wheeljack.”

“We need to go.”

There was a moment of silence that could only have been Dreadwing checking his logs.

Wheeljack didn’t wait for Dreadwing to say anything else about how and hour was not sufficient.

“I said get up. We’re wasting time.”

Dreadwing finally stood. “Wheeljack, that was barely an appropriate amount of recharge. You need to rest.”

“Not with Smokescreen out there.”

“Wheeljack, we talked about this. If you have not recharged, you will not be able to save Smokescreen because you will die before you get the chance to help.”

“Well, if we don’t get moving, _Smokescreen_ will be dead before we even _arrive_.”

“Megatron will not kill him-”

“How can you be sure? What makes you so sure that Megatron won’t change his mind?”

“Because Megatron _needs_ Smokescreen.”

“No, Megatron _wants_ Smokescreen… and I’m not going to let Megatron have him.”

Wheeljack sat down and began starting the process of turning on the _Jackhammer._

“Megatron might not kill Smokescreen, but that doesn’t guarantee Megatron won’t hurt Smokescreen. And, I’m not sure about you, but I don’t want to see Smokescreen looking like-” Wheeljack shivered “- _that._

Dreadwing narrowed his optics. “Like… what?”

Wheeljack ignored Dreadwing.

He was a Wrecker. He didn’t have nightmares.

None that Dreadwing needed to know of, at least.

"Wheeljack, what have you seen?"

The J _ackhammer_ finally rumbled to life.

“You can stay in here or you can fly on your own," Wheeljack continued to ignore Dreadwing and avoid eye contact with him. "You can stay behind and recharge for all I care, but me? I’m finding Smokescreen before it’s too late.”

Dreadwing sighed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Wheeljack didn't need to be told twice. He put the _Jackhammer_ in gear, then took off.

The sudden lift off startled Dreadwing, causing the jet to tumble slightly before he caught himself by grabbing onto the back of Wheeljack’s chair.

Wheeljack would have normally laughed, but he had other things on his mind.

More important things.

Everytime he closed his optics, it was there.

He couldn’t keep looking at it. He couldn’t keep remembering what it looked like. He couldn’t keep remembering what it _felt_ like.

What Smokescreen looked like after being completely broken by Megatron. What it felt like to lose Smokescreen.

_He couldn’t let Smokescreen end up like that._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a touch of spice for this chapter. Nothing super explicit, but some implications, and like I said, it's a bit spicy, so I'm giving you guys a heads up.

"They are looking for you."

Smokescreen listened to Unicron's ramblings, but he did not acknowledge them.

Sharp claws stroked between his door wings, but he refused to roll over and face Unicron.

"Do not worry, I will not let them take you."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

The claws dug a little deeper.

"Did I give you permission to speak?"

Smokescreen closed his mouth and shook his head.

"That is what I thought. Perhaps you still have not learned your lesson. Do you require excess punishment?"

Smokescreen shook his head again.

"Hmmm..." Unicron stopped touching Smokescreen and shifted in the berth.

A hand landed next to Smokescreen. The rookie finally was forced to look up at the purple optics and sharp fangs gleaming above him.

"I think you are lying."

Unicron lowered himself so that a portion of his weight was now resting on top of Smokescreen.

Smokescreen whined at the pressure on his systems.

"Shh~" Unicron trailed a finger over Smokescreen's throat. "It would be such a shame to have to rip out your voice box."

Pointed denta and a smooth glossa soon replaced the finger.

They soon trailed up to Smokescreen's audial receptors. He received a short lick. He shivered.

"Do you enjoy that, dear Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen tried to hold in the whines and moans as Unicron continued licking. He ended up biting his own tongue and forcing his optics shut to silence himself.

"You do."

Smokescreen shook his head.

A low laugh rumbled right next to his receptors.

"There you go again. Lying to me. I do not enjoy it when I am told falsehoods. Or perhaps... it is you that enjoys the punishment you will receive from committing such an act."

He shook his head again.

Unicron sighed, then tapped on Smokescreen's throat once again.

"I do so enjoy your silence, but I would enjoy it even more if I got to hear you sing for me. Would you enjoy that?"

Smokescreen remained still.

"Would you enjoy me inside you? Filling you up so nicely?

Unicron's claws dragged slowly down Smokescreen's plating until it stopped just above his interface panel.

"I know I would enjoy watching you take me. So small... so beautiful..."

Unicron's claws began to dig between the seams of Smokescreen's panel.

Smokescreen tensed at the action.

"Relax~" Unicron purred in his ear. "It will only hurt more if you do not."

Smokescreen couldn't relax.

Not when he was about to, once again, relive his nightmares.

"Open up for me, will you?"

_No._

Smokescreen would not go through this again. He would not be _forced_ through this again.

Not again.

"Do you want your punishment to be worse?"

Smokescreen shook his head.

The claws pressed harder into his sensitive plating.

"Then open up," Unicron's low and guttural voice growled directly next to his audial receptor.

Smokescreen tensed again and he tried to shift away from Unicron.

Unicron responded by dropping even more weight onto Smokescreen’s chest.

Smokescreen pushed against Unicron in an attempt to remove the bigger mech from atop his chassis.

_A failed attempt._

He needed more power. He needed to be stronger.

The power he felt before.

_The power of the dark energon._

There was another option.

Something Wheeljack had taught him.

_“I’ll teach you something just in case. It can be used if you ever find yourself in a situation with a bot much bigger than you pinning you down. Us smaller mechs need to have a few tricks up our sleeve.”_

Smokescreen felt a strange swell in his spark and a brief flare of power through his systems.

_“Chances are, they’ll only be worried about your arms, which leaves your legs free. That’s all you need for this move. Legs and a bot of leverage.”_

Smokescreen slowly widened the space between his legs.

Unicron was, in fact, distracted by keeping Smokescreen’s upper body contained to notice the slight movement from the rookie’s legs.

_“Lock your legs behind their back, but be quick about it. Don’t let them have a chance to question your motives. I used it on Magnus in training once. You should have seen the look on his face when I was suddenly the one pinning him down.”_

Smokescreen popped open his panel, then he locked his wrapped his legs around Unicron’s back and pulled the larger mech’s panel against his own.

Unicron’s surprise at Smokescreen’s change of character only lasted a moment before it turned into a smirk.

“I knew you would come around~”

_“All you need is a bit of leverage. Enough to tip your attacker, then you let gravity do the rest.”_

Smokescreen reached for the edge of the berth. He tightened his servos over the corner.

Unicron's claws finally dropped down to Smokescreen’s exposed valve.

_“Be quick.”_

Smokescreen took in a shaky breath as he fought the pleasure he was receiving from Unicron.

He couldn’t let himself be distracted.

_“No hesitation.”_

No hesitation.

Smokescreen’s spark flared with power once again. It was just what he needed.

He grunted as he used his hold on the berth as leverage to twist his body, and Unicron’s as well.

Smokescreen released his leg lock and Unicron fell. Smokescreen rolled off the other side of the berth, landing on his pedes, and sparing Unicron a glance long enough to see the complete rage in the Lord of the Un-Dead’s optics.

_"The astro-second they hit the floor, you run like hell."_

And Primus, that was one thing Smokescreen could do.

His alt mode wasn't just for show, after all.

The moment the door opened, Smokescreen was speeding down the hallway. He needed to figure out which way was the exit before Unicron caught up.

If Unicron _did_ catch up, it was going to be bad news for Smokescreen.

An engine louder than his own began to echoe through the hall.

_No. No. No._

He was so close.

_He was so close._

He was... slowing down...

Smokescreen floored the gas, but he only seemed to go slower.

Unicron was catching up. Now _was not_ the time for engine failure.

Smokescreen began transforming.

_That's not supposed to happen._

Smokescreen couldn't drive, and now he couldn't walk.

_Something was wrong._

The space craft finally pulled in front of Smokescreen and transformed as well.

Unicron looked at Smokescreen with fury plastered all over his face.

"How far did you think you would get? Did you think you would escape me? You think you can defy me when it is _my_ blood that now runs through you?"

"You can-"

"Quiet!"

Smokescreen's mouth shut quickly.

He... couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He couldn't run.

_He couldn't escape._

Unicron laughed. "I was going to give you the choice to join me. I was going to let you keep your free will. But... now it seems that I will be forced to keep you by my side."

_"If you don't make it out... don't give up. It's only a matter of time before someone comes to your rescue... or you make a new escape plan."_

"I do not plan to let them take you. You will remain by my side. You will remain loyal to me... _forever._ "


	17. Chapter 17

Predaking flew in circles above where Smokescreen had been last seen in order to try and pick up either Smokescreen's or Megatron's scent.

"Caught anything yet?" Knock Out asked as Predaking swooped down and landed with a loud thud.

"No," Predaking said as he glanced back up to the sky. "The trail is long gone. We were too late to track them down."

Knock Out looked down.

"Not being able to track them here does not mean we will not be able to track them anywhere. All we need to do is keep looking."

"I'll let the others know we didn't find anything here."

Predaking nodded.

"Optimus? Knock Out reporting."

**"What have you found?"**

"Nothing. The trail's dead. We can't track them."

**"I understand. Keep searching. We need to find Smokescreen."**

"Trust me. I know."

Knock Out sighed once he cut the line with Optimus. He didn't want to deal with all these mishaps and difficulties. He just wanted to find Smokescreen.

"If you want to find him, we can not waste time waiting for something to happen."

"I know, I know. I just... I don't know where to start."

"Why not search the places we know Megatron has been at some point."

"You mean his old bases?"

"Those would be the places Megatron would go back to."

"I know where all of his bases are. Dreadwing and I made a map of them."

"Then we should start looking at those bases."

"That's the thing. There are _so many_ bases that I don't know where to _start_ looking."

"Which one is closest and which one is the biggest?"

Knock Out pulled out a small device that held the projection of Cybertron on it, then dots began popping up across the globe.

The map then zoomed on the biggest dot.

"That one. It's not the closest, but it's the biggest."

"Then we start looking there."

Knock Out nodded and put away the device.

"Before we go, I would like to ask..." Predaking trailed off.

"Ask what?"

"Which base is this?"

"Dark Mount."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wheeljack liked to fly fast.

Dreadwing could keep up with him when he was also flying.

But flying that fast in his jet form and flying that fast while desperately holding onto the back of Wheeljack's chair to keep physics from doing its job were two extremely different experiences.

Dreadwing was pretty sure Wheeljack was flying too fast to even take in their surroundings.

They wouldn't be able to find Smokescreen if they weren't looking properly.

"Where are we going?" Dreadwing finally asked.

It was obvious by the way he gripped the steering wheel and turned sharply. He had somewhere specific in mind.

"I just remembered a place. I should have thought of it before. I've tried to blow it up before. I've also lost half of my friends there."

"And this place would be?"

"Dark Mount."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We need to start with the most obvious places," Arcee suggested.

"Places like military bases, fortresses, and labs," Ratchet specified.

"Megatron would have most likely fled to somewhere he could get supplies or find his remaining loyal Decepticons," Optimus explained.

"And Somewhere he could keep Smokescreen hostage," Bumblebee added.

"If he managed to find Shockwave, Starscream, _and_ Flatline too, we could be in a lot more trouble," Arcee pointed out.

"Let's focus on Smokescreen first," Bulkhead said.

"I agree with Bulkhead," Ratchet nodded. "We can fight 'Cons, but what we can't do is rescue Smokescreen after he's already fallen."

"Wheeljack and Dreadwing are searching the air and Predaking and Knock Out are trying to catch a scent," Bumblebee said. "We need to get looking too."

"The more of us there are looking, the greater the chance we have of actually finding him," Optimus took a step toward the monitor. he pushed a button and a map of Cybertron appeared. Then, several purple dots popped up along the surface of the planet. "This is a map of Decepticon bases, military or otherwise. Knock Out and Dreadwing said that, save for Shockwave's secret bases, every single one is shown here. I believe it would be wise if we began searching the bases closer to our current location, then working out way out. It is unlikely that Megatron got too far without stumbling upon a base, so it would be the most logical thing to do."

They gathered around the map and studied it.

Bumblebee's optics were trained on one glowing dot in particular. it was brighter and bigger than the rest, and relatively close.

"What's that one?" the scout asked.

Optimus followed his gaze. "Ah, _that_ is Dark Mount."

"Dark Mount?" Bumblebee asked. "As in Megatron's former central military command? The same Dark Mount that he duplicated on Earth?"

"Yes."

Bumblebee stared at the dot longer.

They needed to check the most obvious places, right?

"So what place more obvious than his _main_ base?" Bumblebee asked. "I'll start looking there."

Optimus looked down at Bumblebee. "It is indeed the most obvious location for Megatron to return to. If you believe it wise to start there, you may go ahead. But... seeing as it is the most likely place for Megatron to be, I think you should not go alone."

"Don't worry Optimus, we'll go with him," Arcee said.

"Yeah, we got him covered," Bulkhead joined in.

Optimus nodded. "Then begin your search immediately. We do not want to arrive too late"

"What about you and Ratchet?" Bumblebee asked.

"I need to stay here to make sure Ultra Magnus doesn't decide to take a nosedive," Ratchet answered.

"And there is something that requires my attention. I trust you will be able to handle Megatron in my absence. You do not need to defeat him, just stall him from doing anything that could possibly endanger Cybertron."

"Not to question your actions, but what do you have to do that could be more important than saving Smokescreen and defeating Megatron _again?"_ Arcee asked. "This could end up being a fight that involves the very fate of Cybertron. What is more important than our future?"

"That is why I am leaving. I must retrieve the one thing that will _truly_ restore our planet."

"But... I thought we had already done the whole restoring thing," Bulkhead said.

"We restored the planet, but we did not restore the planet's _life,_ " Optimus said.

"I... don't understand," the Wrecker shook his head.

"The All Spark," Ratchet finally said.

"What about it?" Arcee asked.

"It is not on Cybertron," Optimus finished.

"But... what? It- I thought it was on Cybertron," Bulkhead stammered.

"It is, but it is not at the same time," Optimus explained.

"None of this makes any sense," Arcee shook her head.

"It doesn't need to, Optimus is the one doing the retrieving of the All Spark," Ratchet said. "You are just looking for Smokescreen... which you still need to hurry up and do."

"Right," Bumblebee said. "Ratchet, can you give was a ground bridge?"

Ratchet went to the monitor. The map disappeared and coordinates showed up.

Then a ground bridge swirled to life in front of them.

"This is the closest I can get you to Dark Mount," Ratchet explained. "Decepticon technology still makes it impossible for me to pinpoint its exact location."

"Close enough is fine," Arcee said. "Let's go."

Bumblebee and Bulkhead nodded and walked through the bridge.

"Good luck," Ratchet said before Arcee left. "Be careful... and come back, whether or not Smokescreen is with you."

"We will be," Arcee nodded. "And we'll come back _with_ Smokescreen."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you guys want an anime that is just off-brand Transformers, Brave Police J-Decker is the show for you. It’s a 90s anime and is a quality show, so if you have no more Transformers shows to watch, watch that. It’s good.

By some odd coincidence, they all seemed to arrive moments after each other.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing were first, then Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Arcee, then Predaking, shortly followed by Knock Out.

"Seems we all had the same idea," Wheeljack said with a small laugh.

"It was the most logical choice," Predaking replied.

"Yeah," Arcee agreed. "Megatron's biggest base? It's the first place anyone would check."

"That's why we all showed up at the same place at the same time," Wheeljack sighed.

"Spreading our forces would be much more efficient," Dreadwing said.

"Oh well, we're all already here," Wheeljack shrugged. "The base is big, so we'll make quicker work of it that way."

They all glanced at the massive fortress, examining every detail of it.

"I'll take Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Knock Out with me," Arcee instructed. "We'll start from the bottom and work our way up."

"Then Dreadwing and Predaking will fly up with me to the top and work our way down," Wheeljack replied.

Arcee nodded her approval, then signaled for her team to assist her in finding the lower entrance.

Wheeljack climbed into the _Jackhammer,_ waiting to take off until both Dreadwing and Predaking had transformered.

Though the tower was tall, it didn't take long to reach the top with flight. It really was a much faster method of transportation than walking.

Wheejack carefully landed his ship on the large open area at the top of Dark Mount. Predaking and Dreadwing transformed next to the ship and waited for the Wrecker to exit.

"Doesn't look like much up here," Wheeljack said as he glanced around the area as he walked out of the _Jackhammer._

"I do not see any entrances into the base either," Predaking narrowed his optics.

"We will likely have to make our own entrance," Dreadwing said.

Wheeljack smirked and pulled a grenade from his side and took a step forward. "I can take care of that part."

"Wait," Predaking held out an arm to stop Wheeljack from taking another step.

"What? You want to do it?"

"No- that is not- be quiet... there is someone else here."

Wheeljack looked around. "Where? It's too dark too see anything?"

"For you," Predaking then raised a finger and pointed at the other side of the platform they were on.

Wheeljack could make out the faint shape of a throne of some sort.

He tried walking closer to investigate, but Predaking continued blocking him.

"I don't see anyone," Wheeljack said.

"Look closer."

Wheljack narrowed his optics, trying to focus on the throne.

There did seem to be a mass there, but it wasn't moving and there was no indication that it was anyone.

Then it did move.

And then a slit of purple light expanded into a set of purple optics.

After the optics, the rest of the lights covering the bot came on in a similar purple.

"Took you long enough."

There was something sinister in the voice, but something oh so familiar at the same time.

Wheeljack froze.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come for me at all."

The one on the throne began to walk forward.

Wheeljack couldn't draw his weapons.

Wheeljack couldn't because _he knew._

He knew who that was.

Dreadwing and Predaking didn't seem to have that same recognition in the one standing before them.

"Stand down," Wheeljack ordered.

Dreadwing and Predaking turned to him with complete confusion.

"Stand down," Wheeljack repeated.

"Wheeljack-"

"It's Smokescreen, damnit. Now stand down."

They finally lowered weapons and Smokescreen finally came close enough for them to see him properly.

Wheeljack finally pushed past Predaking's arm and went up to the rookie.

"Are you alright?" the Wrecker questioned. "And happened to you? You're all... purple..."

"Unicron wanted to make some... personal changes to me," Smokescreen said softly.

"Unicron?' Dreadwing piped up from behind. "Did you say Unicron?"

Smokescreen nodded.

"But I... I thought it was Megatron that took you."

"It was... but it wasn't. It's a long story that I can explain to all of you later."

"Where is Unicron right now?" Predaking asked. "I would rather not fight him again. We need to get away as soon as we can."

"Actually... I'm not going anywhere."

They all stared at Smokescreen, who was now equipped with his guns and phase shifter.

"And neither are you."

~~~~~~~~~~

It all felt so strange.

Smokescreen could see and think, but he couldn't move and speak. He lived through every sensation felt, every movement made, but somehow, it wasn't him doing those thing.

It wasn't him in control of his own body.

_I'm sorry._

He couldn't actually say the words.

The dark energon Unicron had given him... it was such a small amount, but he was somehow able to be controlled like _this._

_**Unicron? He is not controlling** **you.**_

_Then who is?_

**_You are._ **

_I... I would never do something like this! You're lying!_

**_But I am you. Are you sure_ you _are not the one lying?_**

Smokescreen watched as he attacked his friends with his own body.

Was... was that really him? Was he really the one doing this?

_I don't want to hurt them._

A laugh came from both his body and inside his head.

**_Then stop hurting_ _them._**

Smokescreen couldn't.

This was his body, but he couldn't control it.

He couldn't stop it.

"Smokescreen!" Wheeljack cried. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

Smokescreen heard what he was saying, but he wasn't the one saying it.

"It looks like betrayal," Wheeljack answered softly.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"I... I don't understand."

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're the reason I'm in this mess in the first place. You're the one that let me leave. You're the one that let me get taken."

"No," Wheeljack tried to fight back, but it was weak.

It was weak because Wheeljack already believed it was true.

"Although, I should thank you," Smokescreen continued aiming his weapons, but he never fired. "If it weren't for you, I would have never realized that none of you were my friends. None of you ever helped me, one of you fixed me, and none of you _saved me._ "

"Smokescreen, that's not true and you know it!" Wheeljack didn't want to fight.

"No, it _is_ true and _you_ know it!"

Wheeljack went rigid.

Because Wheeljack did know it was true.

"Unicron... he saved me. He made me realize that I was a fool for remaining loyal to Optimus. I was a fool for calling you my _friends._ I was a fool for ever trusting you."

"Smokescreen... this is not you," Dreadwing spoke up. "Unicron must have-"

"Isn't it me? How would you know? You know nothing about me."

"Except for the fact that you are too afraid to ask for help."

That seemed to trigger something.

Smokescreen's weapons disappeared and his optics went wide as he finally seemed to realize what was going on.

_Who's in control now?_

Smokescreen wasn't trying to attack them now, but it still didn't feel... quite _right._

_**It has only been you.** _

"What... what am I doing?" Smokescreen asked softly as he started to shake.

But somehow... Smokescreen wasn't the one in control.

"Smokescreen, kid, you with us?" Wheeljack asked hopefully.

Smokescreen look around.

"Wheeljack? Dreadwing? Predaking? What are you doing here? And what am I doing here?"

"Smokescreen, you okay? What's wrong?"

"I don't... I don't remember how I got here. I... Unicron was... he was... He did _something_ to me. I don't...." Smokescreen put a servo to his helm and shook his head. "I don't remember what he did to me."

"Well, based on what just happened, I would assume that he found some way to control you," Dreadwing explained.

"We can figure it all out when we get back and we can let Ratchet have a look at you," Wheeljack offered. "Let's get going before Unicron shows up."

Something loud and big and heavy landed behind them.

Wheeljack was almost afraid to turn around.

And Wreckers weren't afraid of anything.

Well... maybe the Bringer of Choas could be the only thing on the list.

"What are you doing before I arrive?"

Wheeljack finally turned around, slowly.

But that didn't look like Unicron. More like... upgraded Megatron.

But Unicron's optics were not on them, they were on Smokescreen.

"A wonderful performance my dear Smokescreen," Unicron said. "Now, do me a favor and kill them, please."

Something tapped against Wheeljack's helm. He could only assume that it was Smokescreen's gun.

"With pleasure... _my Lord._ "


	19. Chapter 19

“This is not going at all like we planned,” Wheeljack said as he avoided a punch from Smokescreen.

“Wheeljack, we did not even _have_ a plan,” Dreadwing pointed out as he and Predaking tried fighting Unicron. “We could have thought it over, but _no,_ you had to get here _now._ ”

“If you saw what I saw, you’d understand,” Wheeljack winked.

Dreadwing smirked. “Well, I want to understand, but you never told me what you saw.”

“You never asked!”

“I did! _You_ never answered!”

“Stop arguing!” Predaking yelled as he tried to hold Unicron’s arm and keep him from using his massive dark energon cannons.

“Tell that to him!” Wheeljack shouted as he pointed accusingly at Dreadwing, then proceeded to get shot in the side by Smokescreen.

Wheeljack grunted and stumbled forward, clutching at his side, but not stopping the fight with Dreadwing.

Predaking winced at the sight.

_How much of an idiot was he?_

“Me?” Dreadwing stepped away from Unicron and toward Wheeljack. “Why am I to blame? You started this!”

Predaking struggled against the Lord of the Un-Dead now that he was alone.

Unicron only offered a glance at the argument going on before he turned one of his arms into a large scythe and dragged it under Predaking's legs, causing him to fall.

“I’m not _just_ talking about this."

Of course, they could keep arguing while Predaking was suffering.

“What are y-”

“Seaspray,” Wheeljack answered before Dreadwing could even finish the question.

“What does _Seaspray_ have to do with _this_? He is dead.”

"Exactly. _You_ killed him."

Predaking stood back up and rolled his optics, then transformed into his beast mode.

He'd have to do this alone, it would seem.

The first thing he did was grab Smokescreen to protect Wheeljack while the Wrecker was distracted. 

Wheeljack may have insisted that they were here to save Smokescreen and that he would likely not be able to fight against Smokescreen, Smokescreen had no such qualms in fighting his allies.

And neither did Predaking.

So he threw the mind-controlled rookie into a nearby pillar to temporarily put him out of the fight.

He looked over his shoulder and found Wheeljack and Dreadwing still arguing.

“I never mentioned it before because Optimus wanted us to work together, but I will never be able to forgive you after what you've done.”

“I wish you would have said something because I never wanted to work with you either. You are reckless and a complete fool. If I did not despise Starscream for what he did to Skyquake, I would have never joined any of you.”

“Well, _we_ don’t want you here either.”

Now their weapons were drawn on each other.

This was getting out of hand.

Predaking growled.

They needed backup.

Predaking's distraction gave Unicron another chance to shoot one of the Predacon's legs, then grab the beast and toss him into the abandoned throne across the platform.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing didn't even seem to notice the beating Predaking was getting.

_This was getting old._

At least he had been able to deal with Smokescreen before he could take any more advantage of the arguing allies.

Predaking was ready to march over there and grab them by their helms, then smash them together to stop their pointless bickering.

“You’re a rotten Decepticon and you’ll always be one! You’re just like the rest of your kind! Evil, selfish, and vile.”

“I could say the same about you! You Autobots have done nothing but destroy my friends and family. Skyquake was my _brother!”_

“And Seaspray was my friend!”

“At least I am fighting for a noble cause!”

“I fight for peace!”

“And I fight for freedom!”

They had finally gotten physical with the fight. Ducking and weaving and dodging and gunfire.

They really didn’t care about the situation they were in, did they?

Maybe they did care, but maybe there was more to this.

Perhaps… it was more than them deciding now was the perfect time to start a fight with each other.

Perhaps… Unicron was to blame.

He took control of Smokescreen. Who is to say that he did not corrupt the minds of Wheeljack and Dreadwing too?

Those two worked together just fine before, what other explanation would there be except the unknown powers of the Bringer of Chaos?

Maybe he had gotten into their processors and turned them against each other.

It was plausible.

The hint of a smirk on Unicron’s face only seemed to further support the point.

“Do you agree, Predaking?” Dreadwing asked as he slammed the barrel of his gun over Wheeljack’s helm.

There was a look in Dreadwing’s optics.

“Is he nothing but Autobot scum?”

Dreadwing was trying to tell him something.

Something Predaking didn’t quite understand about this whole debacle.

There _was_ more to it…

But it wasn’t Unicron.

Predaking growled and turned back to Unicron.

He didn't have time to figure out what Dreadwing was trying to tell him.

“He is one of the Autobots that destroyed your brothers!” Dreadwing winked.

_Ah. So that was it._

He could play along.

He narrowed his eyes at Wheeljack and an even larger growl rumbled deep within him.

"You were able to take care of Ultra Magnus, but Wheeljack has not received the punishment for his crimes yet. Justice calls. It is time for the sentence to be carried out."

Predaking lowered himself and stalked closer, sharp denta exposed as he snarled.

He felt warmth and power grow down in his abdomen.

The moment the warmth made it's way up into his throat, it burned, then he opened his mouth and released.

Wheeljack's optics widened and dove out of the way quickly. His expression changed quickly as he stared up at Predaking. The Wrecker was acting before, but the new look on Wheeljack's face seemed genuine this time.

_Fear._

The obvious fear given off by Wheeljack fed something previously buried in Predaking's processor.

_Instinct._

It had been too long since Predaking felt the thrill of the hunt. So long since he had been allowed to tear anything apart. So long since he had _killed._

Something prodded at the back of Predaking's mind, willing him to take his chance and kill Wheeljack at that moment.

Justice... for his brethren.

Once the flames had stopped, Predaking took Wheeljack's surprise as an opportunity to pin him to the ground. Predaking shoved his snout against Wheeljack's face and growled, opening his mouth slightly to allow the smaller bot a glimpse of the sharp denta that were waiting to tear him apart.

Unicron laughed, causing Predaking to perk his head up slightly and growl at the Lord of Evil instead.

"Look at all of you," Unicron said. "I never had to raise a finger against you. You all tore each other apart for me. You have got to be the worst band of misfits that I have ever seen. You can not work together. What made you think that you would ever be able to take me on? Especially when your minds are so easy to manipulate." Unicron glanced at Predaking when he said that. "A drop of my blood and you have already lost your mind."

"Don't tell me..." Wheeljack craned his neck to try and look at the leg of Predaking that Unicron had previously shot.

The wound leaked a strange purple smoke.

"He's being controlled too?"

Unicron began walking closer to the beast sitting on Wheeljack.

"I was wrong about you, Predaking. I thought you were a beast that could not be controlled, but I was wrong. You just need a little persuasion and the right incentive, then you become thoughtlessly obedient."

Unicron stood close to Predaking and reached a servo up to touch the beast's snout.

Predaking stopped growling for a moment and allowed Unicron to touch him.

Then Predaking dropped his head and wrapped his jaw around Unicron's leg. Without a moment of hesitation, Predaking flung Unicron into a pillar.

Wheeljack stared in Predaking in shock now that the fear seemed to be gone.

Predaking puffed out his plating and let out a huff of smoke, then he winked.

Dreadwing smiled and walked over to Wheeljack and offered him a hand.

"Thanks," Wheeljack mumbled as he took Dreadwing's servo and allowed himself to be pulled up.

"Hurry, we need to take Smokescreen and go," Dreadwing urged. "I do not think it will take long for Unicron to get back up."

Predaking lowered himself and moved his wings to the side.

"You sure Preds?" Wheeljack questioned.

Dreadwing looked at Unicron, who was standing once again with a furious blaze in his optics and purple smoke beginning to form more weapons.

"We do not have to time argue," Dreadwing said as he pulled himself onto the back of Predaking.

"Fair enough," Wheeljack agreed, then he seated himself in front of Dreadwing. "Let's go."

Predaking let out a screech, then he began to run, his massive wings spreading out as he did. Before he took off, he passed by the pillar he had thrown Smokescreen into to try and pick up the rookie.

Unicron delivered another shot to Predaking before the beast could retrieve his rescue target.

Unicron then stepped over Smokescreen's frame.

"You will not be taking him."

Predaking stalled a moment as he narrowed his optics at Unicron.

"Predaking, we need to go," Dreadwing said.

"We can't," Wheeljack countered. "Not without Smokescreen."

"Wheeljack, you are injured and Predaking is injured. We will not stand a chance against Unicron. The best thing we can do is regroup, rest, and heal, then we will rescue Smokescreen when we are all in peak condition."

"But what if it's too late?"

"Then we will have to live with the guilt and get our revenge."

Wheeljack turned away from Smokescreen slowly.

"Alright Preds, let's go."

Predaking stared a moment longer as well, then he finally turned and flew away.

"Sorry kid," Wheeljack muttered. "We'll come back to you."


	20. Chapter 20

Smokescreen's came online and he blinked up at the ceiling.

The room was dark and cold, making Smokescreen realize just where he was.

His senses heightened and his systems came online ready to run or defend himself.

He turned his head and found what he had been dreading to see.

Unicron sat at his side.

_He didn’t want to be here._

He had hoped this was all some strange dream he was having.

“I can assure you, every moment of this is real,” Unicron said.

Now _that_ was starting to get a little creepy.

Why was Unicron reading his thoughts? _How_ was Unicron reading his thoughts?

“I would not worry about it too much,” Unicron suggested. “Some things are better left without an explanation.”

“But-“

Unicron’s cold glare cut Smokescreen off.

“No speaking unless I tell you to.”

Smokescreen nodded.

It was impossibly difficult for Smokescreen to keep quiet. He was a very vocal person. He spoke his mind and he wasn’t afraid to do so. That was part of who he was.

But Unicron’s unspoken threat hung in the silence.

If Smokescreen continued to step out of line, there would be consequences.

 _Painful_ consequences.

And consequences Smokescreen didn't want to deal with again.

“Do you remember the fight?”

Smokescreen paused and tried to think.

_Fight?_

There had been a fight?

Smokescreen shook his head.

“It appears you were injured more than I thought you were.”

Smokescreen gave him an accusing look. “And just ho-“

Unicron began to stand and Smokescreen immediately shut himself up.

Unicron lowered himself back into his seat.

“What do you have to say?”

Smokescreen looked down.

“You may speak.”

“Sorry…”

Unicron tipped his head expectantly.

“... My lord.”

“You are getting careless with your manners. Remember them.”

Smokescreen nodded.

“Now, as to the question you were asking… I will have you know that I was not the one to damage you. It was, in fact, one of your supposed ‘friends’ that you continue to claim are going to save you.”

Smokescreen’s optics widened.

_They… they wouldn’t do that._

“What makes you so sure about that? They have left you before. What makes it so hard to believe that they would hurt you as well?”

Smokescreen immediately sat up in anger. “Because they _are_ my friends! They wouldn’t do that to me. They wouldn’t hurt me. They wouldn’t _betray_ me! They-”

Unicron was on his feet and had his hand clamped around Smokescreen's throat in an instant.

“Manners,” Unicron warned, leaning over Smokescreen and glaring with those glowing purple optics of his.

Smokescreen let out a gasp of air as he tried to pry Unicron's servo off enough for him to finish speaking.

“No..." Smokescreen choked out softly, but with determination. "I will not... not listen to you and I... I will not... remain silent... They... they are my frie... friends and nothing you d-do can... change that...”

“Ah, you are correct. Nothing _I_ do can change that, but _you?_ You _can_... and you have.”

Smokescreen stopped fighting against Unicron, allowing the Lord of the Un-Dead's grip to tighten even more around Smokescreen's throat.

Smokescreen tried to speak, but it only came out as short gasps and raspy coughs.

_What?_

“Who do you think initiated the fight? If they really care for you like you say they do, do you think they would be the ones to throw the first punch? They only attacked you because you struck first.”

_No!_

Smokescreen tried fighting again. He needed air and he needed to get out of here.

 _You're lying! I_ _wouldn’t hurt them!_

“But you _did._ _You_ hurt them. _You_ betrayed them. They might be your friends, but you are not theirs.”

_What did he do?_

“You shot Wheeljack.”

Smokescreen wouldn’t do that.

"It was quite a shot. Very efficient. You took advantage of the fact that he was distracted for a moment. Not to mention that you put on a lovely act to get them close and stall until I arrived. I was correct in choosing you to join my conquest."

_Conquest?_

"The destruction of Primus."

Smokescreen's optics widened.

_But... that would mean the destruction of Cybertron._

"I am afraid that I do not see the issue."

"You- you're in-insane," Smokescreen managed to speak.

Unicron laughed, then his claws suddenly dug into the plating and Smokescreen cried out in pain.

"I'm starting to think that you keep defying me because you enjoy the pain as much as I love watching it," Unicron said “Recalcitrant masochist."

Smokescreen's system began to flash red.

**: PUNCTURED THROAT PLATING :**

Smokescreen knew that much. He didn't need any warnings.

**: WARNING-SHARP OBJECTS LOCATED NEAR VOICE BOX :**

He knew that too.

Then the claws dug a little deeper.

"I have been far too lenient with your disrespect, but that will not stand any longer. I will ensure that you will not be able to speak out of line again."

**: VOICE BOX DAMAGE-EXPECTED :**

"Anything else to say before I tear out your voice box?"

_Last words, huh?_

Smokescreen smirked.

"Abhorrent sadist..."

Without hesitation, Unicron's claws sunk down, then he tugged, ripping out the system and all the wires.

The pain was sudden and sharp.

Smokescreen wanted to scream in the pain. He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell.

_But he couldn’t make a sound._


	21. Chapter 21

Wheeljack had warned Arcee's team of the situation. They didn't seem too fond of leaving, especially not Knock Out.

Dreadwing's input and a detailed rundown of their injuries finally convinced them that they needed to get out.

They didn't mention Smokescreen being mind-controlled, though.

If Knock Out found out about _that,_ there would be no way of convincing him to come back without a fight.

"What are you going to do about the _Jackhammer?"_ Dreadwing asked.

"Too late to go back now," Wheeljack shrugged. "Unicron can fly, so he has no use for it. I'm not worried. I might end up needed to repair a few things though in case Unicron decides to destroy it. Don't get me wrong, I care more about the _Jackhammer_ than myself sometimes, but there are more important things to worry about."

"Yes, there are."

Wheeljack was tempted to call Ratchet for a ground bridge, but, well, they weren't exactly on the ground and Predaking seemed perfectly content on flying to the _Nemesis._

Wheeljack was content as well. The longer it took them to get back, the longer he had to figure out what he was going to say to the others.

_'Oh yeah! Smokescreen was there. He shot me, isn't that great! Not to mention that Predaking tried to kill me too. It was great. What an adventure. Did you know dark energon can apparently mind control people? Crazy, right?'_

Yeah, no. That wasn't going to work.

"What are we gonna tell them?" Wheeljack asked.

"The truth."

"Pfftt- yeah right," Wheeljack laughed. "We can't tell them _the truth._ "

"Why not?"

"Because if they find out Smokescreen's being _mind-controlled_ and forced to attack us, they aren't going to take it well."

"But if we _do not_ tell the truth, it could only make it worse. If they are not prepared to see Smokescreen like that, then when they do, they will take it even worse."

"And what do we tell them about Predaking? That he was also mind-controlled for a moment too? Do we tell them Unicron can control anyone?"

Dreadwing looked confused. "What?"

"What do you mean 'what?' You watched Predaking nearly rip me in half."

Now Dreadwing laughed. It was strange.

Not strange in the fact that the laugh itself was strange, but more so in the fact that Dreadwing was a serious mech and likely hadn't laughed since before the war ever started.

Wheeljack was taken aback by the sound at first, but then he narrowed his optics. "What's so funny about me almost dying?"

"Did you not realize?" Dreadwing's laugh carried on as he spoke.

"Realize what?"

"That is was just part of the act as well? Did you not realize?"

Wheeljack opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly closed it and looked away. "Whatever," he grumbled.

"It was very convincing. Wonderful job Predaking."

Predaking let out a strained huff.

That didn't sound right.

"Preds? You doing okay?" Wheeljack gave Predaking a light pat.

Dreadwing turned and looked at Predaking's injured leg, the purple smoking from it had not stopped. In fact, it seemed to only increase.

"Wheeljack, I think Unicron did do something to him."

"So I was right about the mind control?"

"No, well, maybe, but I do not think so. I think Unicron's weapons are _enchanted._ "

"Enchanted?" Wheeljack repeated skeptically.

"Well, I could have found a better word for it, but I think because his weapons were created out of dark energon, the wound Predaking sustained is being affected differently."

"So his wound's infected?"

"Dark energon is more... difficult... than simple infection, but that is essentially it."

"The _Nemesis_ should be close. We'll get Ratchet to look him over once we get back."

"Predaking, do you think you will be able to make it just a little further?"

Predaking let out a shakey grunt, but he kept on flying.

"Ratchet, prepare for some company in the medical bay," Wheeljack decided to warn the medic of the coming Predacon.

 **"Arcee's squad came in without a scratch,"** Ratchet sighed. **"I knew it was too good to be true."**

"Hate to disappoint."

**"How bad is it?"**

"Well, I'll start with the easy part. Dreadwing's fine. I've got minor damage. Now Predaking... that's where it gets complicated."

 **"I can deal with complicated. How bad is it?** **"**

"When you look at it, it doesn't seem too serious, but..."

**"But...?"**

"Tell me, how familiar are you with dark energon inflicted wounds?"

There was no noise on the other end, then the transmission was cut off.

"Aaaand, he hung up on me," Wheeljack mused. "You think that's a good sign or a bad one?"

Dreadwing was glaring at him.

Suddenly, Wheeljack felt uncomfortable.

"What?" the Wrecker questioned.

_"Minor damage?"_

"What?" Wheeljack repeated.

"You said you only had _minor_ damage. I hate to break it to you, Wheeljack, but that-" Dreadwing's servo skimmed the edge of Wheeljack's wound. "- is not minor."

Wheeljack grabbed Dreadwing's servo and moved it away from his side and desperately hoped Dreadwing didn't notice the way his breathing faltered for a moment.

"I've had worse. It's minor to me. You touching it isn't helping, that's for sure."

"I am just trying to look out for you. Treating any injury with listlessness and viewing _major_ injuries with indifference could be potentially debilitating."

"You're going to have to use smaller words for me, Dreadwing," Wheeljack smirked.

Dreadwing rested a servo on his helm and sighed.

"I have not had enough recharge to deal with you right now."

Wheeljack would have continued messing with Dreadwing, if not for the fact that they were suddenly going down and they weren't close enough to the _Nemesis._

Predaking's joints all seemed to have locked up. His wings gave a few last flaps before they, too, gave up, and then they were _really_ falling.

"Predaking." Wheeljack tried.

Of course, there was no response.

"Predaking!"

"Wheeljack, I do not think he is online anymore."

"Shit."

Dreadwing cocked his head at Wheeljack's speech.

"Human term."

"Ah."

"Basically means scrap, but I feel like it's a little more vulgar. Not to mention that Magnus doesn't know I'm swearing when I use human terms."

"Fair enough, but is now really the time for a human language lesson."

"Right."

The ground was getting close.

It wasn't looking good.

Dreadwing sighed behind him, then there was an arm around his waist and he was pulled off Predaking's back.

Then, he wasn't falling anymore. Instead, he was slowly being lowered to the surface, just next to where Predaking had landed, and stirred up a large mess of debris.

When they reached the ground, Dreadwing released Wheeljack and the Wrecker, slightly surprised, but silently thankful.

"I didn't even know you were able to fly outside of your alt-mode," Wheeljack remarked in order to prevent any awkward conversations of gratitude.

"In my root mode, my thruster lies on my back, so I am able to use it much like the jet pack Optimus has. Although, mine is much less efficient and I do not use it unless necessary."

"Well, now that we're alive, we need to make sure Predaking stays that way."

"We can call Ratchet for a bridge."

'Yeah, but we still need to get him _through_ the bridge."

Dreadwing seemed to finally understand the situation.

"Just put your spinal strut into it."

Wheeljack stared for a moment, but he soon realized that Dreadwing was serious about carrying Predaking.

"Ratchet, change of plans," Wheeljack reopened the link. "We're going to need a bridge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell, I really enjoy writing these interactions between Wheeljack and Dreadwing.


	22. Chapter 22

“They asked for the bridge, so why aren’t they here?” Arcee asked impatiently.

“Wheeljack said they had a change of plans, so maybe something bad happened,” Bumblebee theorized.

“It didn’t sound too urgent though,” Ratchet pointed out. “Not to mention they’re injured, so maybe _getting_ to the bridge is difficult.”

“Do you think they’re alright?” Bulkhead asked. “They said minor injuries, but minor injuries shouldn’t take them _this_ long.”

“I tried to contact Wheeljack, but he’s not picking up,” Ratchet said.

“Try Dreadwing,” Arcee suggested.

Ratchet waited a moment, then there was finally a reply.

 **“Ratchet?”** Dreadwing grunted.

“Thank Primus. Wheeljack wasn’t answering and you two were taking such a long time that we thought that something bad might have happened.”

**“Apologies, Wheeljack’s servos are full at the moment.”**

**“Dreadwing! Stop being a lazy aft and help me!”** Wheeljack’s shout could be faintly heard over the commlink.

**“Ratchet called. He thought something bad had happened and we were in trouble.”**

**“Well…** **_something_ ** **did happen.”**

“Can you tell me what that something is?” Ratchet asked.

 **“Long story short, Predaking decided to land early,”** Wheeljack explained, although it did not really help.

“Dreadwing?” Ratchet questioned the ex-Decepticon, hoping he would be able to provide further insight.

 **“One moment we are on our way to the** **_Nemesis,_ ** **the next, we’re falling.”**

“Then I take it that Predaking has sustained some more injuries and that is the cause of your delay?”

Wheeljack scoffed. **“You try lugging Primus knows how many tons of unconsciousness Predacon around.”**

“I can see the issue.”

 **“Then if you aren’t too busy, do you think you could offer us a hand?”** Wheeljack asked.

“Bulkhead, lend them some help. Knock Out, you prepare the med bay.”

Bulkhead nodded and went through the ground bridge quickly. Knock Out left to the med bay without a word.

What he found was Wheeljack and Dreadwing struggling to figure out how the hell they were going to drag Predaking’s heavy frame through the bridge.

Wheeljack was at Predaking’s front, trying to figure out the best way to balance Predaking’s neck and upper torso with his smaller frame..

Dreadwing was on the side of Predaking, but he seemed to be figuring out his own situation.

Good to see ya Bulk,” Wheeljack greeted before he let out a small grunt and began to haul the beast up over his shoulder. “Grab at the other wing joint, will ya?”

Bulkhead looked back and found Dreadwing with one servo secured below Predaking’s wing, then the other beneath the beast’s stomach.

Bulkhead mimicked the action on the other side.

“Take it slowly,” Wheeljack advised, then he began to step forward.

Dreadwing and Bulkhead followed his pace until they had finally made it through the bridge.

The second they were onto the _Nemesis_ , Wheeljack collapsed and Bulkhead and Dreadwing were quick to move out of the way of the falling Predacon.

Wheeljack groaned under the weight of the beast.

Dreadwing began as he made his way over to the Wrecker. Wheeljack had his optics squeezed shut and he was gritting his denta hard in obvious pain.

“Wheeljack?” Dreadwing began.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Wheeljack hissed as he tried to pull himself from underneath Predaking, only causing more pain. “A hand would be nice though.”

Dreadwing bent down next to Wheeljack and lift Predaking just enough for Wheeljack to roll out from beneath the beast. Dreadwing then offered a hand, which Wheeljack accepted, and pulled the Wrecker to his pedes.

“You alright?” Dreadwing questioned.

Wheeljack nodded as he took a moment to reorient himself. “Yeah, just fine.”

Dreadwing knew that was going to be the answer. He also knew that it was the wrong answer.

“How damaged are you?” Ratchet asked, stepping toward Wheeljack.

“Don’t worry about me, take care of Preds first,” Wheeljack shook his head. “The dark energon did something to him. It shut him down even though the damage was only minor.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re going to be able to move him to the medical bay, so I’ll be forced to treat him here. Wheeljack, I want you to go to Knock Out to get treated.”

Wheeljack didn’t move.

“Wheeljack,” Ratchet warned with a scowl.

“Huh?” Wheeljack asked.

Ratchet sighed. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No,” Wheeljack admitted. “I have my audials set to block you out when you say anything concerning my health.”

Ratchet sighed again. “Dreadwing-“

“I will ensure he makes it to Knock Out,” the ex-Seeker replied before Ratchet could even finish. “And I will get myself examined to ensure that I do not have any injuries that I previously missed noting.”

“Finally, someone that knows how to take care of their own, damn health,” Ratchet muttered as he stepped closer to Predaking to examine the injuries.

The second he saw the wound, he knew something was wrong.

Such a small wound taking down such a large mech?

_Unlikely._

Wheeljack and Dreadwing had mentioned something about dark energon, which meant-

“Oh dear,” Ratchet murmured, then he jumped into action. “I want everyone to clear the room, but Wheeljack and Dreadwing, don’t go too far. Someone comm for Knock Out and tell him to bring my medical tools and get up here asap.”

Everyone was confused and hesitated, but they soon obeyed.

Arcee sent the transmission to Knock Out and the others began to leave without question.

Ratchet turned to Wheeljack, who was walking with too much stagnation for him to be alright.

“Dreadwing, stay a moment,” Ratchet instructed before he could follow Wheeljack out of the room.

Dreadwing turned to Ratchet with a slight turn in his head.

“I need to deal with Predaking first and I will need Knock Out. It’s worse than I thought.”

“I understand.”

“It means that neither of us will be able to tend to Wheeljack and he has no regard for his personal health at all. If I do not force him to receive medical attention, he won’t receive any at all.”

“I know basic first aid. I will take care of him.”

“Thank you.”

Dreadwing offered a solemn bow of his head, then left.

Knock Out arrived moments later with Ratchet's medical supplies.

"How bad is he?" Knock Out asked the moment he saw Predaking.

"His injuries do not look serious, but dark energon is at play," Ratchet explained.

"Dark energon," Knock Out repeated.

"I believe that it has corrupted his systems and that is what caused his shut down."

"Wouldn't the dark energon completely take him over, just as we've seen before?"

"I do not believe that enough dark energon was involved for him to be destroyed by it. It also looks like his systems are trying to fight off the dark energon naturally, which might be another cause for this. His systems grew too worn from fighting infection."

"So it _will_ take him over... it just hasn't happened yet."

Ratchet nodded slowly.

"Predaking on _his_ side won't do us any good," Knock Out remarked. "How do we stop it?"

"Well, we somehow have to extract the dark energon from his systems, but seeing as it is not in a solid or liquid form..."

"It's going to be near impossible," Knock Out finished.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Didn't you manage to flush dark energon out of the young human, Rafael?"

"Yes, but that was a different situation. I exposed him to regular energon in order to counteract the dark energon. I'm afraid that will not work on Predaking since he already has a regular diet of energon."

"What about... synthetic energon?"

Ratchet thought it over. He seemed skeptical.

"It had the power to restore Cybertron," Knock Out kept on providing evidence. "Why wouldn't it have the power to cure dark energon poisoning?"

"That could work, but I might... I might have another idea."

"Let's hear it."

"It's a little- how should I put it..."

"Imprudent? Meshuga? Eccentric? Incongruos?" Knock Out guessed.

"No, it's more..." Ratchet paused. " _I_ _llogical._ "


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lesson of today's chapter: don't get into an argument with a doctor.

"Shockwave!" Knock Out couldn't help but exclaim in shock. "You want to go to Shockwave!?"

"Shockwave was the one that cloned Predaking, and more Predacons," Ratchet began to explain. "He knows the most about their species and it would only make sense to go to him for help in situations like this."

"Good luck finding him," Knock Out scoffed. "And if you do find him, good luck trying to get his help. He won't help us. He does his own thing and he won't do anything for anyone else unless it benefits him."

"Don't worry, I already have it all figured out."

"And what exactly do you have to offer?"

"Predaking."

Knock Out almost laughed. "Like he'd accept what he has deemed a 'failure' as sufficient incentive."

"Not specifically Predaking _himself,_ Predaking's injuries."

"He's not even a proper medic. What makes you think he would care about Predaking's injuries."

"Because Predaking's wounds aren't entirely... well... normal. Caused by dark energon and polluted by it. Don't you think Shockwave will be at least a little curious about them? Curious about what more dark energon could do? It's right up his alley."

"So what if it is? You still have to _find_ him. He had dozens of bases. None of which I know the location of, by the way. None that _anyone_ knows the location of, for that matter."

"Well..."

"Oh? So you have a map of his secret labs?"

"I never said anything about myself."

"Dreadwing?"

"Possibly, but unlikely. He wasn't who I had in mind though."

"It's not me. Predaking is in no position to tell us. Are you thinking of searching the _Nemesis'_ data banks? If you are, I can tell you not to waste your time. It's wouldn't be here. Maybe at Dark Mount, but now that we know Unicron is there, it's off the list of possibilities."

"No, I wasn't planning on that."

"Then do tell me what you _are_ planning."

"I plan to ask Shockwave's old lab partner."

Knock Out finally seemed to understand, but he still had some doubts. "You sure he'll have the locations?"

"Maybe not all of them, but if we find one, we can likely find the others."

"But in his current condition..."

"I'm not letting him leave the _Nemesis_ until he receives medical attention anyway. We just need the information, then we go find Shockwave. He won't get more involved than we need him to."

"Alright, but... there's also the issue of _getting_ Predaking to Shockwave."

"Another easy solution."

"How so? It took Dreadwing, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack to drag him a few feet through a ground bridge. Not to mention that they were all exhausted after."

"We don't need to bring Predaking to Shockwave. We bring Shockwave to Predaking."

Ratchet was the smarter medic. His age gave him a vast supply of wisdom and experience. He always knew what he was doing and what the best solution was. No one questioned the calls he made as Chief Medical Officer, even if they disagreed. In his med bay, what he says goes.

_But this wasn't his med bay._

"And that's got to be the worst idea you've ever had."

Ratchet's face said that he was completely serious about this.

"Going to Shockwave for help is one thing," Knock Out continued. "I was willing to go with that because you made valid points, but bringing _Shockwave,_ onto the ship? _Bad idea._ This ship is full of Autobots and Decepticon betrayers. If you think Shockwave would even want to come onto the ship full of his enemies, you're wrong. If you think that any of the others would let Shockwave come onto the ship, you're wrong. Bringing Shockwave onto the ship would put _all_ of us at risk. We'd all be in danger. It's just... it's completely _insane._ "

"I did say illogical, did I not?"

"I won't go along with this plan. We can figure it out on our own. I'm a Predacon too. I know plenty about Predaking. We can do it on our own. Shockwave will be a last resort, if even that. I will not put everyone else in danger because Shockwave is the _logical_ choice."

" _You_ don't have to agree. As far as I'm concerned, Optimus is gone and Ultra Magnus is incapacitated. That means, as CMO, I am the one leadership falls to. I'm the one that makes the decisions right now."

"Well, you aren't the _only_ CMO aboard."

"I thought Flatline was promoted to CMO when you left."

"He might have been promoted, but I was never _demoted_."

"As far as I'm concerned, your position was _Decepticon_ CMO, not Autobot. Not only are you not a Decepticon anymore, but neither is Predaking, which means he isn't your business."

"But Predaking isn't an Autobot either, mind you. But... Shockwave is a Decepticon, making _him_ my business. Since he's by business, I won't let him become anyone else's business. He is to stay far away from this ship."

"But he's also not the patient, is he, meaning that you have no control over what he does and doesn't do."

"I do have control when it came to the potential safety and health of my patients."

"But they're also _my_ patients."

Knock Out growled as he had to force his servos into fists and dig his claws into his palms until he began to leak energon to keep himself from lashing out. No matter how much he hated Ratchet's plan, he wouldn't allow himself to be taken over by his anger.

"Shockwave is not coming aboard this ship," Knock Out hissed through his clenched denta.

"Then you can be the one to deal with Predaking once the dark energon has completely taken over his systems and he is just another puppet of Unicron. Like Smokescreen."

Knock Out's restraint snapped. His plating flared and his spines spread out. His fists uncurled and his claws shimmered with the energon from his palms and the light of the bridge. His claws stopped centimeters away from Ratchet's chassis. If Knock Out wanted to, he could tear right through the plating and directly to Ratchet's spark.

"Do _not_ bring Smokescreen into this," Knock Out roared.

Ratchet didn't flinch or show any sign of fear at all. He knew Knock Out couldn't kill him. Knock Out couldn't even hurt him.

Not on purpose, at least.

A sudden reminder of Knock Out's fangs piercing through the plating of his arm played quickly through his processor.

"Then we bring Shockwave in," Ratchet reasoned. "If he can fix Predaking, then he can fix Smokescreen too."

" _Fine,_ " Knock Out growled. His claws finally lowered. His spines were still raised threateningly, but he seemed to finally realize Ratchet's point. "But he will be under close supervision and if he tries to so much as lay a single digit on anyone that _isn't Predaking._ I will kill him, then bring him back to life so I can tear his spark out again."

"You really don't like him, do you?" Ratchet asked.

"Not when he is such a big threat to my friends."

"They're my friends too," Ratchet pointed out. "I wouldn't even consider letting Shockwave aboard if I didn't think he could save Predaking and find a solution to save Smokescreen."

"Then you better be right."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Wheeljack being horny

"Wheeljack."

"No."

"Wheeljack."

"No."

Dreadwing grabbed onto Wheeljack's wrist and stopped the Wrecker from walking any further. _"Yes."_

Wheeljack tore his wrist from Dreadwing's grasp and continued walking. _"No."_

Dreadwing growled. "You need medical attention."

"Yeah, not a babysitter. I can take care of myself just fine."

"Somehow, I do not believe you. It is almost like, I have seen how well you 'take care of yourself' firsthand."

"Getting only a groon of recharge is how my nights normally go. I don't need that much recharge. We've talked about that before. I also did some minor studying of medical procedures and first aid, so I'll repeat my claim. I can take care of myself just fine."

"You know first aid, but you do not implement it. You _can_ take care of yourself, but you do not. Which means it's my job to take care of you."

"You're job?"

"Doctor's orders."

Wheeljack groaned. "I should have known Ratchet put you up to this."

"Well, now that you know, you are going to let me help you."

"I don't need your help. I'm fine."

"That is what you said after you refused to get recharge before going after Smokescreen. How did that turn out exactly?"

"That wasn't because I had a lack of recharge. That was because I didn't know Smokescreen was being controlled by Unicron and got a lucky shot it."

"Lucky shot? That was not a lucky shot. You got distracted."

"Yeah, because we decided the best plan was to pull the same trick Unicron pulled on us."

"That was not a plan. That was a sudden decision to improvise because we did not have a plan."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours, you idiot. We could have made a plan, but you were so insistent on getting to Smokescreen first that we never got the chance to make one."

"Well, I'm sorry for worrying about Smokescreen."

"And I am sorry for worrying about you."

Wheeljack stopped walking and turned around to stare at Dreadwing with wide optics.

That wasn't what he was expecting to come out of the ex-Seeker's mouth.

"Perfect, now that apologies are over, we can get back to the matter at hand. We can do it out here, or we can do it in another room."

Why did Dreadwing make it sound like they were going to do something other than tend to Wheeljack's wounds?

Not that Wheeljack wasn't opposed to a good fragging. Dreadwing was slightly bigger than Ultra Magnus, undoubtedly bigger than Shockwave, and significantly bigger than Wheeljack himself.

The bigger the bot, the bigger the spike.

Seeing as Dreadwing actually cares about Wheeljack, he would probably be gentle unless Wheeljack asked him to be rough. But if he were rough... Wheeljack would very much like that.

Great, now he was thinking about Dreadwing pinning him down, holding his arms above his helm with a single servo, whispering dirty things into his audials, and the other servo trails lower and-

_Primus._

Everything suddenly began to heat up much too quickly for Wheeljack's liking.

His cooling fans kicked on and Wheeljack was pulled back to reality.

Dreadwing was looking down at him with concern.

_Stop looking._

Maybe Dreadwing would look at Wheeljack like that if he was a little _too_ rough, making him worry that he had accidentally hurt Weeljack.

"Wheeljack, are you alright?"

_Stop talking._

Maybe he'd ask if Wheeljack was okay. Maybe he'd tell Wheeljack that he would try to be more gentle. Maybe he'd offer Wheeljack sweet phrases of comfort as he waited for the pain to die down.

Wheeljack would ask him to continue though. He's always been a bit of a sucker for pain.

It makes him feel alive.

Dreadwing would definitely make him feel alive.

A servo gently rested on his shoulder.

Wheeljack assumed it was meant for comfort, but right now was not the time.

_Stop touching._

Maybe Dreadwing would drag his servos up and down Wheeljack's frame, letting his claws dip just below the seams of his plating. Maybe he would find Wheeljack's wiring and play with the sensitive ones, making Wheeljack writhe on whatever surface they had ended upon. Maybe once he was down teasing the wires, his claws would slowly drag down until-

"You are burning up."

Once again, he was torn away from the false reality.

Wheeljack realized that his optics were out of focus and staring blankly at nothing in particular.

He ended up forcing his optics back to normal and looking up into Dreadwing's red optics.

Those red optics in a dark room would be beautiful. Red optics staring down at Wheeljack while-

"Wheeljack, are you listening to me? Can you hear me?"

_Frag me. Frag me. Frag-_

"You are overheating. Do I need to get Ratchet?"

That was a mood killer for sure.

"No! No need for Ratchet."

Wheeljack stepped away from Dreadwing in order to lose the touch on his shoulder and free himself from Dreadwing's powerful gaze.

"I'm fine."

Dreadwing stepped forward, making Wheeljack's movement pointless.

"Are you sure? Your fans have been running on their highest setting and your plating is incredibly hot. You look dazed and only seem to hear me some of the time."

"I..."

Wheeljack suddenly felt lightheaded.

_He was too hot._

The massive wound, being forced to carry Predaking, then having Predaking fall on top of him.

_Something was wrong._

It all added up to this.

_Everything hurt._

Then he started having these fantasies of Dreadwing to top it all of.

_He shouldn't be this hot._

Wheeljack put a hand to his helm and stumbled back slightly. He tried to not trip over his own pedes as his balance suddenly decided to fail him.

_Everything burned._

Dreadwing was walking toward him again. "Wheeljack-"

"Catch me."

Dreadwing was quick to act.

His servos carefully wrapped around Wheeljack's waist just before he could hit the floor.

"Idiot," Dreadwing murmured before he picked Wheeljack up and placed him over his shoulder.

The former Decepticon made his way back to the bridge to give the now unconscious Autobot proper medical attention.

Dreadwing could have dealt with the injury, but now there was more to it than just the wound from a gun.

Who knew Wheeljack would have even let it get this bad?

Everyone. Everyone did.

But did anyone else do anything about it?

No.

Dreadwing should have done something earlier to help Wheeljack.

Now?

Now Wheeljack was overheating, likely from some sort of change in his injuries, such as them being straining from carrying Predaking. Perhaps the wounds were just much worse than they had originally thought and Wheeljack was finally tired of hiding his pain.

Dreadwing didn't bother letting Ratchet know he was entering the bridge, which ended up startling both of the medics out of their conversation.

"He collapsed in the hallway," Dreadwing began to explain.

The medics turned their attention to Wheeljack slung over Dreadwing's shoulder.

"Set him down," Ratchet sighed.

"My apologies," Dreadwing did what he was told and placed Wheeljack carefully onto the ground. "I never got the chance to treat his wounds before they got this bad."

"They were likely already this bad," Ratchet shook his head. "There is nothing that you could have done for him except bring him to me."

"Our progress with Predaking has been momentarily halted," Knock Out said. "We've got some time to kill."

"Not to mention that we need Wheeljack conscious before we can get back to work," Ratchet added.

Dreadwing awkwardly stepped back as Ratchet began examining Wheeljack.

"I take it I am not needed anymore," Dreadwing said.

Ratchet looked up. "No, you are not. Thank you for trying to help him anyway."

Dreadwing gave a small bow of his head, then he left the bridge without another word or a second look back.

Once in the hallway with the door closed behind him.

"You are such an idiot for going and getting yourself hurt like that," Dreadwing sighed and shook his head.

Dreadwing began walking down the hall, a small smile making its way onto his lip plates as he did so.

"Such an idiot for going and making me care about you like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a Smokescreen/Knock Out fic...
> 
> How could something that started as a random crack ship turned into something like this? What have I done? They are growing too powerful. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. I've never even thought of Dreadwing/Wheeljack until I started writing this fic and the scenes just began to unfold perfectly. It's too late for second thoughts. 
> 
> Oh well.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter today because I had some extra time

Dreadwing had ended up joining the others in the old Decepticon mess hall. It was the biggest room other than the bridge itself and it provided a commonplace when the bridge was otherwise occupied.

Occupied with matters such as emergency meetings between Optimus, Ratchet, and Ultra Magnus, or occupied with being a temporary medical bay for Predacons.

"So..." Bulkhead began awkwardly. "We never heard the full story from Wheeljack. He just told us to leave. Speaking of, where is he?"

"He shut down in the hallway," Dreadwing explained. "Ratchet is taking care of him now."

"Good," Bulkhead sighed. "He needs medical attention, even if it's forced upon him."

"Well, back to what happened at Dark Mount," Bumblebee changed the conversation back to its original subject.

"We arrived atop the building," Dreadwing started. "Nothing seemed strange, but then we saw Smokescreen. He seemed... _off."_

"Off?" Arcee questioned.

"His optics were purple. That was the first alarm. He seemed normal at first, but the longer the conversation went on, the longer Smokescreen fell apart. He started blaming us for his situation, even though in the past, he's only blamed himself. Wheeljak was so distracted by the fact that we had finally saved Smokescreen that he did not seem to even notice the change. Not until Unicron showed up."

"Wait, _Unicron?"_ Bumblebee asked.

"Yes, Unicron," Dreadwing confirmed. "I am not entirely sure how he was revived and how he obtained Megatron's body, but it happened. Unicron wields the power of dark energon. He used that energon as weapons and we also believe he used it to mind control Smokescreen."

"I didn't know dark energon had so many functions."

"None of us did. There are likely more functions of it too. The dark energon was also what took Predaking out."

"What about Wheeljack?" Bulkhead asked. "Did the dark energon cause his shut down?"

"No, Wheeljack's wound was... from Smokescreen."

"So not only was Smokescreen being mind-controlled, but he was being mind-controlled to _kill_ you," Arcee stated

"That is what made it more complicated. We needed to keep Smokescreen from killing us but Wheeljack was adamant about not hurting Smokescreen in any way. I... understood Wheeljack's concern, but it also put the mission into jeopardy. We would not be able to save Smokescreen if he killed us first."

"You saying you don't care what happens to Smokescreen?" Bulkhead accused.

"No that is not- well, what I am saying is that Smokescreen had to be dealt with. Injuries can be healed, but failure can not be fixed as easily. We could have saved Smokescreen if Wheeljack did not hesitate to fight back. Wheeljack's judgment is reasonable though. I am not as... attached, to Smokescreen as the rest of you are. He is someone I can trust and someone that I know trusts me, but my concern does not go so far as to not do what is necessary."

"So you're saying you don't care at all," Bumblebee stated.

Dreadwing was quick to answer. "Of course not. I _care_ , just... within boundaries."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I do not care so much that it could be used against me or would cause me to think irrationally. I learned that I should not get attached to others after Skyquake's death. The loss of my brother caused me pain. Spark twins are born of the same spark. Losing him was losing a piece of myself. I did not like the feeling of vulnerability that I felt through mourning. I realized that if I never cared for someone like I did with my brother, there would be no more of that pain."

The others had gone silent with a wave of guilt.

They had been there for Skyquake's demise. They had helped cause Skyquake's death.

There was no doubt that Dreadwing still held a grudge for that.

But Dreadwing had never said anything. He had never brought it up.

To be fair, Bulkhead and Wheeljack had never said anything about Seaspray.

Well, Wheeljack mentioned it in their show for Unicron, but there was no bite in his words. He was angry at Seaspray's death, but he didn't quite seem angry at Dreadwing.

It was strange.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing have known each other as enemies for quite some time, but as allies, they've worked together for almost no time at all.

But they seem to have put every single one of their differences behind them and they work as an incredible team.

Not to mention that Dreadwing seems to care deeply about Wheeljack, even though he had just said he tried to avoid getting attached.

His bluff wasn't about to be called though, not right now, at least.

His statements had been deep. They showed a side of Dreadwing they had never seen before. He was stoic, loyal, and reserved Decepticon.

 _Ex_ -Decepticon.

He was not emotional. He was not open. He was not... _this._

It meant something for Dreadwing to share his feelings like that. As far as they were concerned, it was something that he had never done before. It was something that meant he trusted them with that.

"Dreadwing-"

Arcee tried to speak up, but then their comms had all turned on, seemingly from the same source.

Knock Out was the first to respond to it, though he was on the other side of the ship, it seemed that he too was receiving the transmission.

**"Smokescreen!"**

There was no voice on the other line. No sound.

Though it was clear that the line was active.

"What's going on?" Bulkhead asked though, he didn't ask it through the communal comm link.

Bumblebee shrugged. Arcee shushed him as she tried to turn up the volume sensitivity and try to hear something- _anything-_ from Smokescreen's end.

**"Smokescreen? Are you alright? What's going on? We're trying to rescue you. Don't worry."**

Knock Out continued talking and asking questions.

There was still no reply.

 **"Smokescreen?"** Ratchet spoke this time.

Then there was finally a noise. A long exhale.

Everyone reacted with a sigh of their own.

Smokescreen was there.

 **"Smokescreen?"** Ratchet repeated. **"What's wrong?"**

There was another pause. There was no silence now that Smokescreen seems to have released his hed breath, but he still did not speak.

 **"Smokescreen is.. is Unicron there?"** Ratchet asked, seeming to understand why Smokescreen had become so quiet.

It was a soft sound, almost inaudible.

A soft _tap, tap, tapping._

**_ . _ _**

**.**

**. . .**

**"I see,"** Ratchet said, then his voice went low. **"As in, right there?"**

**_ . _ _**

**.**

**. . .**

"I do not understand," Dreadwing said, trying to figure out what the tapping meant.

Was it some sort of code amongst the Autobots? Did they have a secret way of communicating?

"It's Morse Code," Bumblebee answered.

Dreadwing's helm tilted slightly.

"It's an alphabet made out of series of dots and dashes," Bumblebee continued.

"I was unaware the Autobots had such a code," Dreadwing remarked.

"It's not Autobot," Arcee replied this time. "It's human."

"That would explain why I did not know what it was," Dreadwing said.

"The human military uses it to communicate secret messages," Bumblebee went on again. "The dots and dashes are placed in certain orders to translate to human words. I picked it up while we were on Earth and I didn't have a voice box. Agent Fowler was kind enough to teach it to me so that he had a way to communicate with me."

"I never bother learning it," Bulkhead added. "But I know Ratchet and Optimus did."

"I didn't know Smokescreen had ever learned it either," Arcee said. "The kid had always seemed too hyperactive to learn anything. But... I guess he did have a lot of free time at the base. There were plenty of opportunities for him to learn."

"It doesn't matter," Bumblebee soon interrupted. "Smokescreen's with Unicron, but he's still able to communicate with us. We need to listen."

 **"Is he currently online?"** Ratchet's questions had continued.

**_ .**

**_ _ _**

**"Are you still at Dark Mount?"**

**_ . _ _**

**.**

**. . .**

**"Do you think you will be able to find a way out?"**

**. . _**

**_ .**

**. . .**

**. . _**

**. _ .**

**.**

Ratchet made a slight noise of annoyance. **"Try and find an escape. Get out Dark Mount and I will be able to send a bridge. I'm not sure how close I can get it because of the sudden resurgence of Dark Mount's shielding, which I'm certain has something to do wi-"**

"Wait," Dreadwing interrupted Ratchet. "The _Jackhammer._ If Unicron has not done anything with it, it will still be at Dark Mount."

**. . _ .**

**. _ . .**

**_ . _ _**

**. .**

**_**

Dreadwing looked to Bumblebee for a translation.

"He said 'fly it,'" Bumblebee replied. "I'm assuming he's talking about the fact that he doesn't know how to fly it."

"Ratchet, is Wheeljack still offline?" Dreadwing asked.

 **"Yes,"** the medic answered. **"And he likely won't be back online for quite some time. He took a nasty hit, not to mention he has a severe lack of recharge."**

**. . .**

**_ _ _**

**. _ .**

**. _ .**

**_ . _ _**

**"Don't you dare start apologizing on me,"** Knock Out roared over the link. **"This isn't your fault. You need to know this isn't your fault, so don't blame yourself."**

Nothing came from Smokescreen's end.

"I... know the basic handing of the _Jackhammer_ ," Bulkhead spoke up. "I won't be able to do much, but I can help you get it into the air. Once You've taken off, we can get you the bridge. Unless going down is faster than up and out."

**"Or, if he can make it to the top of Dark Mount and I can, in fact, summon a bridge, then we won't even have to worry about flying ships."**

"I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but doesn't Smokescreen still need to get _away_ before we make plans for his rescue?" Arcee asked. "If we can't get to Smokescreen at all, then there's no point in making any plans."

**. _**

**. _ _**

There was the sound of shifting metal and the tapping stopped quickly.

"What?" Dreadwing asked.

"He just said 'a' and 'w,'" Bumblebee shrugged.

"Something's wrong," Arcee quickly realized.

**"Would you cease that incessant tapping?"**

That was Unicron. Unicron was online. Unicron was right there. Unicron had heard Smokescreen.

 **"Smokescreen? He's up isn't he?"** Ratchet asked.

**. . .**

**_ _ _**

**. . .**

"And that is?" Dreadwing waited for translation.

"S.O.S." Bumblebee said.

"Save our souls," Arcee added. "He's in trouble."

"Like he wasn't in trouble before?" Bulkhead remarked.

"It's much worse this time."

**"Must you insist on defying me?"**

Smokescreen's comm was still active. They were going to have to listen to this now.

**"I ask for silence, but you are unable to give it to me. You enjoy pain, do you not, dear Smokescreen?"**

**. . .**

The violent sound of metal slamming against metal echoed into silence, then a low rumble from an engine and a growl came.

**"Do you want me to remove your digits just as I did your voice box?"**

Everyone went tense.

Smokescreen left his comm active on purpose, didn't he? He wanted them to hear this. He wanted them to know what he was going through.

Morse Code wasn't the only thing he was trying to use to communicate.

 **"Or perhaps-"** The growl grew into a deep purr. **"-since you do not seem keen on listening to me, I should simply remove that function."**

There was a sudden thrashing, most likely Smokescreen fighting back.

**"Do not be like that, dear Smokescreen. You brought this upon yourself. You disobeyed me, so you pay the consequences."**

This was not going to be good.

 **"Smokescreen!"** Ratchet called with concern. **"Smokescreen, don't worry. We're coming for you. We're here. You're not alone. We're-"**

A sudden screeching of metal cut Ratchet off, then the other line went silent.

"Smokescreen..." Bulkhead whispered.

Dreadwing growled, then he turned quickly out of the room and rushed back to the bridge.

"Dreadwing!"

The others called after him, but they did not try to stop him. In fact, they followed him.

"What was that about not caring?" Bumblebee teased slightly once he had caught up to the former Decepticon.

Dreadwing gave Bumblebee a glare, but he said nothing.

They were right.

He did care.

He says he doesn't, but he does.

He cares about Smokescreen. He cares about what Smokescreen does. He cares about what Smokescreen's been through.

_And Smokescreen's been through enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, now you have some closure on Smokescreen's condition. Not good closure, but closure nonetheless.
> 
> sorry baby Smokey, ily <3 It will be all better soon, don't worry.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuuggghhh I have too many other fic ideas making it hard to just focus on this one. I have a plan for a cool time travel/time loop kinds one. I have an idea for some Wheeljack/Predaking stuff. I really want to make a one-shot book for all my other side or smaller ships. I really want to finish this one (and maybe another sequel???? depending on how this one ends) so I can get to work on those next ones. Trust me, they're gonna be good.

“Smokescreen, Smokescreen, Smokescreen,” Unicron chided as he held the rookie’s ripped out audial receptor between his clawed digits.

Smokescreen wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

But there was no sound when he opened his mouth.

The pain was too much.

His hands shot up to cup the side of his helm. He felt the energon soak between his digits. His pedes kicked out to express his pain since his voice could not.

At least Unicron had only removed his hearing on one side.

Smokescreen already had to deal with being mute. He could take being completely deaf either.

“Look at you,” Unicron purred. “Look at how you squirm. Look at how weak you are.”

Smokescreen wanted to say something. He wanted to snap back. He wanted to snark at Unicron.

But he couldn’t

“Not to worry, that is why I am here. With my blood, you will become stronger. With my blood you will become, well-“ Unicron released a deep, rumbling, laugh. “- _mine.”_

When Smokescreen had first been taken, he was terrified. He thought Megatron had found him. He thought Megatron was going to break him again.

Then, he realized.

_This was Unicron._

_Megatron_ was the one that did this, not Unicron and Unicron was yet to do _all_ of what Megatron did.

Unicron _wasn’t_ Megatron.

_Unicron was worse._

Despite the fact that he still feared Unicron, Smokescreen found his urge to fight back rising up.

Unicron wasn’t Megatron.

Megatron couldn’t hold him down because Megatron was dead. Unicron couldn’t hold him down because he wasn't Megatron.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Unicron could hold him down because Unicron decided to be so kind as to share some of his blood with Smokescreen.

_How generous._

But that wasn’t going to stop Smokescreen.

Megatron was the one that brought Smokescreen to his knees and made his frame shake. Megatron was the one that broke Smokescreen and traumatized him. Megatron was the one that made Smokescreen flinch anytime someone touched him and shit down anytime someone tried to help.

It was Megatron’s fault, _not Unicron’s._

But there was something deep down within Smokescreen’s processor that told him that there was more than just Megatron.

**_They never came to find you. They never came to rescue you._ **

**_Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Arcee._ **

**_None of them came for you._ **

**_You had to get saved by a Decepticon. A Decepticon that doesn't care. A Decepticon that just used you to get away from Megatron._ **

**_Yes, it was Megatron that did this, but it was them that let him do it._ **

**_They don’t care._ **

**_They never did._ **

And that something deep down in Smokescreen’s processor was right.

**_And now it’s their fault once again that Unicron has caught you. It was Knock Out that left you. It was everyone else that failed to notice your suffering. It was Wheeljack that failed to keep you on the ship._ **

_Dreadwing… What about Dreadwing?_

_He helped._

**_Helped? Helped you do what? The only thing he did was prevent you from doing the one thing that was going to help you_** **feel.** **_You could have coped. You could have felt better. But then he stepped in._ **

_He did the right thing. He did help me. He kept me from hurting myself and everyone else._

**_Yet you’re still hurting everyone else._ **

_That wasn’t me. That was… that was Unicron. He was controlling me._

**_This isn’t just about Wheeljack._ **

_Who? Who else did I hurt? Who else did Unicron make me hurt?_

**_This isn’t just about physical pain, either._ **

_I…_

**_I’m hurting everyone?_ **

**_Yes._ **

**_Being away. Being captured. Being controlled._ **

**_It hurts. Everyone is hurting from it._ **

**_I do nothing but cause pain._ **

**_It was good that Unicron took me away. Being with him means that I can’t cause them pain._ **

**_Being with him means that I am getting what I deserve._ **

**_He puts me through all this pain to teach me what it is like. To show me the pain that I give others._ **

**_He is the mighty judge sent to deliver my sentence._ **

**_He is… a savior._ **

_No!_

_I will not let him corrupt me. I will not let him take control._

_He is making me hurt my friends even more._

_He is no savior._

_He is the devil._

Smokescreen heard himself laugh.

_But that… that was…_

“Impossible?” Unicron asked.

Smokescreen looked up to the Chaos Bringer. He had forgotten Unicron’s ability to seemingly read his mind.

Unicron laughed. “You seem to forget, dear Smokescreen, who lingers in your little processor. You think you heard your own voice, but who is to say that it was not me having my fun."

_So it’s you trying to convince me that you’re some grand hero and that I do nothing but destroy._

“Oh no, that, dear Smokescreen, is entirely you.”

Smokescreen glared skeptically.

“Of course I might have… _influenced_ your thoughts, but I did not control them. The one having that conversation was you and yourself. It was quite entertaining though. You made some extremely valid points, but also many fruitless claims.”

_What are you doing to me?_

“What am _I_ doing? All I did was give you a collar. You are the one that is tugging on the leash.”

_And that’s supposed to mean?_

“You blame me for your corruption when all I did was plant a seed. You are the one that made it grow.”

_Still not making sense there Uni._

Unicron growled and his servo wrapped around the top of Smokescreen’s helm.

“My name is Unicron. You will do well to remember it before I decide to remove your processor as well. It is clearly not serving its function properly in _processing_ the situation or… anything at all. If I did not need you alive, you would have been dead on that cliff where I found you.”

_Why is that? Why do you need me alive?_

“You will find out.”

_Like hell, I will. I’ll find out because you will tell me._

“Now, now, are you really in a place to be demanding answers from me?”

_You’re right. I don’t need you to tell me. You need me alive because you want a toy. You want to use me as your little, obedient, pleasure bot._

“A good guess, but not quite.”

_Then what?_

“I said that you would find out.”

Smokescreen glared the best he could.

Unicron offered his sharp-toothed grin. “But who knows, maybe I will take you up on your offer.”

_Offer? I never made you an offer._

“Being my little, obedient, pleasure bot was not a proposal?”

_Pit no! I would never let you have me willingly._

“I do not need you to be willing in order to take what I want.”

Smokescreen shivered.

_What was I thinking? This was Unicron’s fault as much as it was Megatron’s._

“Of course. How could I forget to thank Megatron for getting to you first? He certainly made my job easier. All I have to do is-“ Unicron tapped Smokescreen’s interface panel. “-and then-” Smokescreen tensed and found his panel opening on its own in order to prevent the possibility of it being torn off. “-look at that. Megatron already made you so obedient. He could have been a little more strict about you speaking out of line, but I can do the rest.”

Megatron could still hold him down.

Megatron was dead, but his chains were still tight around Smokescreen’s wrists.

Smokescreen was trapped. He was stuck.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The rock was the fear and obedience Megatron had drilled beneath Smokescreen’s plating. The hard place was Unicron’s blood.

He wasn’t going to get out.

The hold on him was too strong.

**_There is no point in fighting anymore. No point in resisting. No point in doing anything anymore._ **

_Let Unicron have his way._

**_I don’t care._ **


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just say... I might have gotten a little carried away in writing this and it ended up a lot longer than I had intended it to.
> 
> Not that any of you are complaining, though.

Dreadwing's pede steps echoed heavily through the halls as he stormed to the bridge.

They were far too loud against the thick silence that hung from the ceiling to the floor.

He didn't care that the last time he recharged was for a groon and on the floor of the _Jackhammer._ He didn't care that he was beyond exhausted. He didn't care that his HUD kept sending him warnings of low fuel levels. He didn't care that he was doing the exact thing he had told Wheeljack not to do. He didn't care if he was being an idiot.

_He didn't care._

He told himself that he wouldn't care. He shouldn't care. He doesn't know Smokescreen. He's not an Autobot. He's not one of them. He shouldn't be attached.

He promised that he wouldn't get attached.

He couldn't relive the feeling of losing someone he cared for again.

_Why did he care about Smokescreen?_

There was no reason for it. Nothing tied him to Smokescreen. He wasn't indebted to Smokescreen in any way. He knew Smokescreen, as allies, for what? A Deca-cycle?

He shouldn't feel attached.

But... maybe it _wasn't_ attachment that he was feeling when he looked at Smokescreen. When he heard Smokescreen. When he realized Smokescreen's situation.

It was something else.

Guilt? Sympathy?

It was _something._

Something that didn't matter right now.

It was a feeling that Smokescreen could somehow... _make_ everyone that he met feel.

Decepticon, Autobot, even neutral parties and humans. He made everyone feel it.

_An overwhelming urge to **protect.**_

Dreadwing had also fallen victim to it. Dreadwing knowing exactly what Smokescreen's situation was didn't help. He knew that Smokescreen had turned to hurting himself in an attempt to cope. He knew that Smokescreen put on a front when around everyone else.

Smokescreen had put up an impenetrable wall around his emotions, but somehow, Dreadwing could still see past it.

And now that Megatron was back, the weaknesses in Smokescreen's wall had become blatantly obvious and it had all come crumbling down once again.

This was too much for the processor of a bot so young.

Dreadwing wasn't entirely familiar with Smokescreen's past, but he did know that Smokescreen had joined their war on Earth with almost no experience at all. Smokescreen wasn't used to the horrors that war dragged in its wake.

When Smokescreen had come to Earth, he had never killed another bot before. He had never had to watch a fellow soldier's spark slowly fade in his arms.

He was in stasis and on a prison ship for the better part of his life.

He had read the prisoner reports.

Smokescreen was on that ship when Cybertron fell and he didn't escape the prison ship until long after the Autobots and Decepticons had taken their war to Earth.

Smokescreen was no stranger to peace. He knew the calm and silence of the halls of Iacon, but he had never seen the _war._

He had never seen torture quite like the kind Megatron had so _generously_ given him.

Smokescreen's mind was not built enough. He was not strong enough.

His weaknesses were so obvious that Megatron could see them. So obvious that Megatron could _use_ them.

And in the end, Smokescreen broke.

Smokescreen _shattered._

Then when Knock Out tried to pick the pieces back up, Megatron came crashing back into the fragile remains.

Knock Out could never fix them after that. Everything happened far too quickly after that point.

Knock Out becoming part Predacon.

Knock Out tried to kill Smokescreen.

That one thing, in particular, hadn’t boded well for Smokescreen’s relationship with Knock Out.

Smokescreen became terrified of the one person he trusted more than his own team.

Ratchet had tried to help. Smokescreen tried to _let_ Ratchet help.

But it wasn’t enough.

Smokescreen’s trust in Ratchet wasn’t enough.

Smokescreen’s trust in _anyone_ wasn’t enough.

None of it.

If Dreadwing hadn’t knocked on Smokescreen’s door when he did, then Smokescreen’s ‘coping mechanism’ would have gone unnoticed and untreated by everyone.

Then Knock Out came back and Smokescreen was still too terrified to let Knock Out take care of him properly.

Smokescreen was hurting and he didn’t want anyone to know.

It was an awful thought that made Dreadwing’s spark flare.

Smokescreen didn’t want to fail anyone. He didn’t want to look weak in front of his friends.

Although, Dreadwing had finally begun to see that the Autobots weren’t just ‘friends’ or ‘subordinates.’

They were family.

And that only made Smokescreen’s situation worse.

How could a family not see that one of their own was hurting? That one of their own was suffering?

They all should have known that when Smokescreen said he was ‘fine’ that he was really the furthest thing from it.

Not to mention that Smokescreen didn’t trust them with his emotions. He didn’t want them to see him with emotions.

Doesn’t Smokescreen know that family is the one he _should_ be sharing his feelings with?

They all care for him. They all want him to get better. They all want to help.

So why wouldn’t Smokescreen let them?

 _No_.

It wasn’t that Smokescreen wasn’t letting them.

It was _them_ that weren’t helping Smokescreen.

How could they just sit and expect Smokescreen to come to them with his problems when he very clearly wasn’t going to.

Now, it wasn’t the Autobot’s fault.

Not all of it, at least.

Megatron was the biggest and most obvious perpetrator in this whole ordeal.

_Megatron._

That sick son of a glitch.

Dreadwing didn’t always agree with Megatron’s decisions, but he always listened.

When Megatron told everyone to avoid the medical bay unless absolutely necessary, Dreadwing shouldn’t have listened.

When Megatron declared Knock Out a traitor, Dreadwing should have declared himself one as well.

He should have seen how far the Decepticons had fallen off their original course sooner.

He should have seen the corruption of their worthy cause sooner.

At least he had seen it at all.

Better late than never.

_But not this time._

This time he saw what Smikescreen was going through and he wasn’t going to let his ignorance stop him again.

“Ratchet!” Dreadwing marched into the bridge.

Said doctor was bent over Wheeljack, treating the Wrecker’s injury carefully. He did his work with such precision and regularity that it was near impossible to tell that anything, such as Smokescreen getting his voice box ripped out and his audial receptors torn off, had happened just moments ago.

Knock Out, on the other hand, was pacing the room nervously with a finger on his chin and his head down in concentration.

Neither of them had even bothered looking to the opening door, the loud footsteps, or the stern voice of Dreadwing.

“Ratchet,” Dreadwing repeated.

“I know,” Ratchet grumbled, servos tightening around his equipment just slightly.

“We need to get to Dark Mount,” Dreadwing said anyway.

“I know.” Ratchet had to set down the medical equipment to keep from crushing it in his slowly strengthening grip.

“He got disconnected from us which means Unicron really did tear out his audial receptors,” Arcee pointed out.

“I _know_.”

“His voice box,” Bumblebee lifted a servo to his own as he talked. “I’ve had mine ripped out. It… it’s not pretty. We need to help him. We need to get in there.”

“I know!”

Ratchet’s restraint had finally been frayed enough to snap.

Everyone else went silent as Ratchet let out a loud sigh in an attempt to regain a hold on the restraint and calm demeanor he held moments ago.

Ratchet stood and gave them a long stare, hoping that they would be able to see the emotions expressed through his optics.

The pain. The guilt. The sense of solemnity. The hint of mourning.

And, of course, the complete and utter despair.

“You think…” Ratchet had to reset his voice box to keep every word from shaking. “You think I _don’t know that?”_

A rhetorical question.

“You think I don’t know what he’s going through? Do you think I didn’t hear him? You think I don't know how much he _needs us?”_

More rhetorical questions.

“Because, trust me, _I do._ ”

“Then-”

“Then why aren’t I doing anything?” Ratchet cut Bulkhead off. “Why haven’t I sent you to save him?”

“Yeah…” Bulkhead nodded awkwardly. “Exactly.”

“Because I _can’t_ send you.”

“Why-”

“Because I would be sending you to your deaths.”

Ratchet wasn’t usually this serious. He was normally dismissive and only gave everyone a side glance when they asked for a bridge or told him they were going out.

Except when it was important.

 _Really_ important.

“Wheeljack: out of commission,” Ratchet straightened his posture and held himself like a proper medic giving a report, not the tired old mech that barely had a care in the world anymore. “Predaking: out of commission. Ultra Magnus: out of commission. Knock Out:” He glanced at the circles the Predacon was pacing. “Out of the question.”

Knock Out’s head picked up and his pacing stopped at that.

“Optimus Prime: out of the picture,” Ratchet finished the list.

“Wait,” Knock Out quickly approached Ratchet. “Why am _I_ out of the picture?”

Ratchet held up a hand, successfully shutting Knock Out up without a word.

“As Chief Medical Officer and acting leader in Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus’s absence, I forbid any of you from leaving this ship until Wheeljack and Predaking have recovered or until Optimus Prime returns. Am I clear?”

The response was quick and clear.

Not a second of hesitation from anyone in the room.

“Ratchet!”

“We can’t do that!”

“Smokescreen needs us!”

“You don’t expect us to sit around while he gets hurt, do you?”

“You can’t make us stay here!”

“We’re going to help Smokescreen!”

"We can't wait for them!"

"We can't wait for Optimus!"

"He needs us _now!"_

Ratchet wasn’t phased by the protests of the others. His posture remained and his stare didn’t waver for even a second.

“I said,” Ratchet’s voice raised enough to silence everyone else.

Once they all stopped shouting, Ratchet lowered his voice, but the seriousness and command in his voice held strong.

“Am I clear?”

Ratchet gave each and every one of them a long stare directly in the optics as he waited patiently for their answers.

"Well?"

"Perfectly clear," Dreadwing growled with narrowing optics. He resisted the urge to grab his sword and hold it at Ratchet's spark until the medic took back his previous statement.

They needed to save Smokescreen.

"Why?" Arcee asked

Dreadwing was no fool.

He knew exactly why they couldn't do anything.

_That doesn't mean he liked it._

"The list I just," Ratchet began. "How many names were on it?"

"Five," she answered.

"Then how many weren't?"

"Five."

"Five of us are cleared for duty. Four, actually. As a medic, I am confined to my medical bay and not the field."

"Four against one," Bulkhead spoke up. "Still good odds."

"Maybe against _Megatron._ "

"But this is not Megatron," Dreadwing finished Ratchet's thought.

"So what Megatron got a few upgrades," Bumblebee shrugged. "I killed him once. I can kill him again."

"This is _Unicron_ ," Dreadwing said. "This is not 'a few upgrades.' This is an entirely different entity. One even more cruel and corrupt than Megatron could have ever been."

"Wheeljack, Predaking, and Dreadwing went against Unicron not too long ago," Ratchet's explanation continued after the temporary shift of conversation. "Yes, they all came back, but Dreadwing was the only one that came out untouched, and as far as I know, he wasn't fighting Unicron. Wheeljack took a blow from Smokescreen, and although it is not fatal, Wheeljack's lack of recharge, which I have determined to have been caused by nightmares brought about by Unicron, could have been. Predaking took a shot from Unicron himself. The injury is barely a worry, by Predacon standards, but it was able to take down Predaking. _One shot._ Predaking is still alive, but if it had been Wheeljack that had taken that shot? If it had been Dreadwing? If it had been one of _you?_ I'm afraid that we would have a different story on our servos."

"Alright, so five against one is not good odds," Bulkhead finally understood.

"Two," Dreadwing corrected.

"Two?" Bulkhead asked. "Two against one? Not even I'm that bad at math."

"Not _two_ against one," Dreadwing turned to face Bulkhead and address him directly. "Not five against one, either. It is five against _two._ Smokescreen is with Unicron. _Working_ with Unicron."

"Two..." Bulkhead looked down. "I see."

"But... but what about the call we just received from Smokescreen?" Arcee was desperately looking for proof of Smokescreen's innocence. "He wouldn't have tried to call us if he was working with Unicron."

"No, he would not have," Dreadwing turned to Arcee now. "That is why I believe the mind-control Unicron is using on Smokescreen is not permanent."

"So we just find out when Unicron isn't controlling Smokey, then we make a grab for him and get out of there," Bumblebee suggested.

"Except you seem to have forgotten the part where I said that _no one_ is to leave the ship," Ratchet shut down the idea.

Bumblebee's door wings drooped.

"Why does it have to be five?" Knock Out asked. "Why can't I help? Why can't I save Smokescreen?"

"Because you won't be able to make the _hard_ decisions."

"Hard-" Knock Out growled. "You _wouldn't."_

"Until we can figure out how to remove the dark energon from his systems, he is nothing but a liability. We can't fight Unicron without _everyone._ I am not going to let you fight Unicron knowing that you are going to face your deaths."

"Have a little faith in us Ratchet," Bumblebee tried to lighten the mood a little bit. "No need to be so pessimistic."

"I'm not pessimistic."

"Then stop saying we're all going to die if we fight Unicron."

"I'm just... being realistic."

Knock Out had placed a servo on Ratchet's arm and stared at Ratchet with pleading optics. "Ratchet, let us go to Smokescreen. Let us save him."

"No," Ratchet removed Knock Out's grip without hesitation. "You are to stay right here with me. We have other things to deal with right now. The faster we get those things done, the faster we can save Smokescreen."

Knock Out's frame wilted into despair.

"Now the rest of you," Ratchet turned to them. His gaze wasn't as piercing anymore.

It had seemed that his determination to put up a strong face had begun to fall.

"I want all of you to go recharge," Ratchet ordered. "And if I find out that any of you are skipping out on fuel _or_ recharge, let's just say that it won't be pretty. If you lot want to save Smokescreen, you can't be pulling any Wheeljack's and passing out."

Ratchet was always good at making his messages clear.

"Oh, and one last thing."

The four stopped and turned back to Ratchet before they could leave the bridge.

"If you do decide to defy my order and go after Smokescreen... don't come to me when your spark has been ripped out."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been rereading MTMTE (or as I like to call it, Rodimus' Frat Boy Adventure), and mmmmmmmm I forgot how good it all was. But, I also forgot about how sometimes you have no idea what's going on and sometimes every chapter feels like some strange crack fic. The Christmas special and the issue where Magnus are some of my personal favorites. And don't get me started on how much I love IDW Ratchet. He's just so much more badass (specifically in the scene where Overlord got out and attacked the medbay and Ratchet was just like 'not in my med bay bitch' and shot him in the face). And of course, the sick line, "If anything happens to me, tell First Aid he's ready, tell Whirl he can have my hands, and tell all my patients... that they'll have to make new appointments." I cannot express how much I loved that line. And of course, that's not the only time he's so incredibly, well... incredible.

Dreadwing recharged while he could do nothing but wait.

Well...

He _tried_ to recharge while he could do nothing but wait.

He could not rest.

The first groon or so had gone well and it was quite relaxing and Dreadwing could feel his systems groan in the satisfaction of finally getting a break.

Finally getting the rest he needed. The rest he knew he needed.

He couldn't even think of saving Smokescreen if he wasn't prepared enough for such a feat.

Unicron was powerful. He had seen it first hand.

And now... he was seeing it again.

Images... scenes... memories...

Different ways the fight could have gone.

_This time, Wheeljack was the one that got hit with Unicron's blast._

_This time, the damage was too much._

_This time, they hadn't warned the others in time._

_This time, they never made it to Ratchet._

_This time, they were too late._

_This time, Smokescreen was dead before they were able to do anything about it._

_This time-_

It kept on going. The same fight repeated over and over in Dreadwing's processor. It was different every time.

But it always ended exactly the same.

They failed.

Every. Single. Time.

No matter how many times Dreadwing saw it. No matter how many times it was different. No matter what changed.

Dreadwing couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't watch the unyielding Wheeljack fall to his knees and wait for his chassis to be pierced by his own sword, wielded by the cruel hand of Unicron.

He couldn't watch the innocent Smokescreen plead for forgiveness before his spark was ripped out, then crushed between the cruel digits of Unicron.

He couldn't watch the mighty Predaking roar one last time before he fell to the ground, having been shot too many times by the cruel aim of Unicron.

None of them deserved to die.

There was still so much all of them had to live for.

Dreadwing couldn't watch them die anymore.

_Why did he have to watch them fall?_

But somehow... in each of the repeats...

Dreadwing never died.

He was forced to watch everyone else fail.

Then...

.

.

.

Dreadwing woke up.

It wasn't with a sudden jolt or a scream. It was normal. It felt like he had just risen out of a regular recharge cycle.

If his heated plating was ignored. It wasn't hot enough to be concerning, but it was warm enough to be uncomfortable.

And he was shaking so much that he could actually hear it.

What he had just seen... it wasn't real.

 _It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real._ _It-_

How many times could he repeat it before he finally believed it.

_It wasn't real?_

_Then why had it felt that way?_

Every single time he watched them fail, he thought it was real. Every single time he watched them die, he thought it was real.

The pain he felt each time _was_ real.

Dreadwing slowly got off of his berth, holding onto the edges of it just a moment longer as he tried to steady himself.

He couldn't.

He was shaking too much.

_It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real._

He... he needed to see Ratchet. He needed to know why he was seeing these things.

Maybe he could get something that could help him recharge while he was there.

When Dreadwing was finally confident in his ability to walk in a straight line without falling, he made his way the the bridge and temporary medical bay.

He was managining for the first half of the walk, but his frame shook with each step and his vision wasn't focussing anymore. It was only a matter of time before he had found himself with his shoulder scraping against the wall and his servo pressing against it to keep himself from collapsing.

First Predaking, then Wheeljack, now him.

 _Something wasn't_ _right._

At some point, Dreadwing had to stop and rest his helm against the wall and close his optics for a second to try and get rid of his shaking and nausea.

It didn't work.

So Dreadwing kept walking through the warnings that started to appear on his HUD.

**Fuel Levels: Dangerously Low**

**Recharge: Required**

**Energon: Required**

**Shut Down: Imminent**

_Not yet._

He was so close to getting to Ratchet.

He needed to know what it was. What he was seeing. Why everyone was dying. Why he had to watch them all die.

_He needed to find Smokescreen._

Please... He couldn't watch Smokescreen die again.

The doors to the bridge. He could see them. He was so close.

He barely managed to make it to the door. He barely managed to grip the doorframe tight enough to keep himself from falling into the bridge.

The sound of the door opening clearly irked Ratchet that his work was being interrupted again.

"I've already explained why-"

Ratchet stopped his angry rant the moment he saw Dreadwing. Frame tense, but almost completely limp. Plates shaking so bad their sound was louder than Dreadwing's cooling fans.

Dreadwing wasn't sure when those had turned on. But when he thought about it, he had grown increasingly hot.

He hadn't noticed over the nausea.

"Ratchet..."

He barely managed to get Ratchet's name out of his vocalizer. He was surprised it didn't come out even more shakey and static filled.

" _Primus_ ," Ratchet muttered. "You look like you just crawled out of the Pit."

Dreadwing attempted a smile, but it must have looked more like a grimace with the way Ratchet had suddenly rushed to his side and took his arm to help balance him out.

"Are you in pain?" Ratchet asked.

Dreadwing bit his denta into his lip plating and shook his head.

He didn't trust his voice.

"You sure?"

Dreadwing nodded.

"What happened?"

So Dreadwing would have to speak.

"Nothing." he tried to keep it simple.

" _This_ isn't _nothing,"_ Ratchet vaguely gestured to Dreadwing's situation. "What happened?"

Dreadwing couldn't find it in himself to answer again.

"Where you injured in the battle against Unicron?"

Dreadwing shook his head.

"You were just fine not long ago," Ratchet was mumbling. "What could have changed that?"

Ratchet's optics ended up falling on Wheeljack. He sighed.

"When was the last time you recharged?"

"I was."

Ratchet appeared stumped again. "How about... how about before that?"

" _Jackhammer."_

Dreadwing could tell that his short answers weren't helping Ratchet even remotely.

"And how long did you recharge for?" Ratchet seemed to be piecing it together though.

Dreadwing raised his hand, then narrowed his optics as he concentrated on his digits, then he finally put down all but one and showed Ratchet.

It didn't take Ratchett long it figure out that Dreadwing had manually lowered his fingers.

 _Something was seriously_ wrong.

"One...?" Ratchet hoped there would be more to it. "You're going to have to be more specific. One cycle? One megacycle? One solar-cycle?"

Dreadwing shook his head.

"Primus," Ratchet sighed again. "Please don't tell me it was only one groon."

Dreadwing nodded.

"Alright, well, that's an easy fix," Ratchet began to walk Dreadwing into the bridge to find somewhere to put the large bot. "I can put you into stasis and allow you to catch up on recharge."

Dreadwing stopped letting Ratchet move him.

"No," Dreadwing said blatantly and sternly.

"I'm sorry," Ratchet sounded extremely offended that Dreadwing would even consider refusing medical attention.

"I said no."

Dreadwing felt a sudden surge of energy run through him. He was able to straigten himself and hold himself up on his own. The shaking stopped and his vision began to clear.

"You will not say no to me," Ratchet glared. "You are going to recharge.

"I need to find Unicron," Dreadwing pleaded. "I need to find Smokescreen."

"You _need_ to recharge."

Dreadwing fought against Ratchet's grip on his arm.

He couldn't recharge right now. If he closed his optics, it meant that he was have to watch everyone die again.

He didn't want to watch everyone die.

"No! You do not understand! I-"

"Knock Out!"

The Predacon acted silently. He quickly took Dreadwing's other arm and kept him from thrashing against Ratchet.

The medics held a moment of optic contact, then Ratchet looked at Dreadwing.

Dreadwing continued his fight, but his optics were begging Ratchet not to put him to sleep.

 _"Please..."_ Dreadwing tried.

Ratchet stared at him a little longer, then he turned back to Knock Out, giving the other medic a small nod.

Then one of Knock Out's claws punctured Dreadwing's plating and more warning signs began appearing, telling him that every single one of his systems was shutting down one by one.

"No... please..." Dreadwing spoke before his voice box could shut down with everything else. "I... I can not... watch anyone else... die..."

His frame began to go lax and the hands of the medics at his side caught him before he could fall.

_He needed to find Smokescreen before it was too late._

Dreadwing lifted his head and tried to plead once more with Ratchet.

He managed to see the concerned optics of Ratchet just before his own started to fade.

_No more death._

_Please._

Then his vision was completely gone. Then it was followed by his hearing. He could feel his thoughts fading too.

_He needed to find Unicron._

_But-_

.

.

.

_He never found Unicron._

_Dark Mount was almost empty._

_Almost_.

_Dreadwing walked the halls. Wheeljack was at his side._

_He was happy to see Wheeljack in good health again. It was good to see him back to his regular self._

_Although... he was still a little quiet._

_Likely because of the grim realization that this was just another failure._

_Smokescreen was already gone._

_They were too late._

_Both Dreadwing and Wheeljack's wings had drooped as they walked._

_Dreadwing shouldn't have waited._

_He shouldn't have listened._

_Smokescreen had needed them long ago. Now they were too late._

_"Dreadwing..." Wheeljack's voice was soft, unlike his usual, boisterous one. "They're gone."_

_He didn't want to believe it was true._

If only he had come sooner.

_"Come on," Wheeljack gently tapped Dreadwing's knuckles with his own._

_It was a simple gesture, but one that was so familiar and intimate that Dreadwing couldn't help but find solace in it._

_At least Wheeljack was here._

_"Sitting around where they_ were _won't help us find where they_ are."

_Dreadwing didn't say anything._

_Wheeljack sighed. "Dreadwing..."_

_"I..." Dreadwing began quietly. "I want to be sure."_

_"Sure? Of what?"_

_"That Smokescreen is still alive."_

_"Wasn't it you that told me Unicron wasn't going to kill Smokescreen?"_

_"Yes... but I also said that when we thought it was_ Megatron _that had taken Smokescreen. Not Unicron."_

_Wheeljack looked down.  
_

_"Dreadwing..."_

_"Yes, Wheeljack?"_

_"I... I don't want to be the one that finds Smokescreen's body. Do you... do you think we can stop looking for it?"_

_Dreadwing looked down._

_Did Wheeljack really feel that way? Was the why Wheeljack had been so insistent on getting to Smokescreen? Was Wheeljack that worried about Smokescreen?_

_It almost... didn't feel like Wheeljack._

Something was wrong.

_"Wheeljack... are you alright?"_

_The Wrecker let out a small and faint laugh._

_"No," Wheeljack said. "No, I don't think I am."_

_"Alright. We can be done once after this last room. Then we get you back to Ratchet and let him have a look at you."_

_"Thanks."_

This didn't feel right.

_Dreadwing ignored the feeling and placed a digit on the lock release of the door in front of them._

_"Last one, Wheeljack."_

_Except Wheeljack wasn't there._

_Dreadwing frantically looked around._

_Where was Wheeljack? He was just there._

_Or... maybe he had never been there at all. He was still on the Nemesis._

_Dreadwing had come here alone._

_Dreadwing shook his helm._

_Maybe he needed to get some recharge once he got back._

_"One more room," Dreadwing muttered, now to just himself._

_Then it opened._

_Dreadwing froze as he couldn't help but stare at what lay in front of him._

_"Smokescreen..." Dreadwing felt a knot in his throat._

_They were too late._

He _was too late._

_Smokescreen was dead._

_Smokescreen's frame was destroyed and mutilated. Energon was sprayed everywhere. It gathered beneath Smokescreen in a sick pool._

_Dreadwing could make out Smokescreen's spark despite the horrific mess._

_His_ dead _spark, Dreadwing should specify._

_Dreadwing shut his optics and knelt by Smokescreen's side._

_"I am sorry," Dreadwing whispered, though he knew that this was Unicron's doing, not his own. "You are..._ were _too young. I am sorry you had to go so soon."_

_Then Dreadwing opened his optics and stared at Smokescreen._

_And Smokescreen stared back with deep purple optics._

That wasn't right.

_Smokescreen was dead._

_Dreadwing was staring at his body. He saw the faded spark._

Smokescreen was dead.

_Dreadwing turned to the door._

_There was no door._

_In fact... there was no room._ _He wasn't at Dark Mount._

 _He wasn't_ anywhere.

_Where was he? What was going on?_

**_'This..."_ **

_Dreadwing looked back to Smokescreen._

_He wanted to get away. He didn't want to be here any more._

_This wasn't_ right.

_This wasn't happening._

_This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This-_

_**".. is your fault."** _

.

.

.

Dreadwing woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these recent chapters do be kinda longer than normal tho


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a good mood. Do you think I should make major character death a warning? Just a thought.

The view over Cybertron from such high up was truly beautiful.

The bright lights that filled the destroyed cities and the reflection of the stars on the ruined surface, although grim, only seemed to add to Cybertron's luster.

It was nothing like what it used to look like, although Smokescreen hadn't seen it in a while. He was used to the endless halls of Iacon and the black of Decepticon prison ships.

The view was lovely, but he was just a prisoner again.

At least he wasn't chained up here.

But he might as well be with Unicron in his head.

He couldn't think anything without Unicron knowing. He couldn't do anything without Unicron knowing.

If he was being honest, it was worse than being chained to the wall of a prison ship.

At least he could still talk then. And still hear properly.

And still have hope.

Now...

The smelting pit just below Dark Mount seemed tempting.

_Anywhere but here._

He couldn't live knowing that he had hurt his friends. He couldn't live knowing that he _would_ hurt his friends.

Unicron was intending on using him to his fullest.

It was only a matter of time before Unicron finally decided he was done being patient and took Smokescreen to berth and finally took advantage of him.

Smokescreen shivered at the thought and pulled his knees closer to his chassis and looked back towards the star-speckled sky.

Back on Earth, he had always found himself calmed by the constellations. He had even taken the time to memorize many of them.

Of course, he never bothered telling anyone. They probably would have laughed and shrugged him off.

They never cared about his interests.

They always acted like everything he said was a joke.

Maybe it's best that he's here instead of with them.

**_Anywhere but there._ **

They don't care. They would have saved him by now if they did.

It's just like when he was being held prisoner on the _Nemesis._

It seems so long ago now, but it's only been a little more than a deca-cycle.

They never came for him then. He had to get rescued by a _Decepticon._

Ex-Decepticon, now.

Why didn't they come for him? Why didn't they care about him?

Smokescreen's optics wandered from the stars down to the ground below.

The _Jackhammer_ waited down there.

Unicron hadn't forgotten about the abandoned ship and quickly made sure that he got rid of it before Smokescreen could use it to his advantage.

Smokescreen could follow the ship down. He could make it so that Unicron couldn't use him anymore. No more advantage.

But the pull of Unicron's control in the back of his processor stopped any thoughts Smokescreen had of possibly killing himself, or even hurting himself, in any way.

Smokescreen didn't want to be here anymore.

Why did Unicron even care about him anyway?

He was weak. He was useless. He can't do anything.

Optimus wanted him to be a Prime?

Like that was ever going to happen. Smokescreen couldn't even deal with his emotions correctly. There was no way Smokescreen would ever become a Prime.

Why did anyone care about him?

 _Did_ anyone care about him?

Knock Out and Ratchet did.

But that's part of their job title.

Arcee hated him after he brought Jack on a mission.

Bulkhead and Bumblebee were nice to him, but they never _ready_ cared.

Optimus was Prime. He was basically required to care about everyone.

_Did anyone care about him because he was **Smokescreen?**_

Did they care about his personality? Did they care about what he's been through? Did they care about the stupid little things he said to try and hide his pain or if he got enough recharge the night before? Did they care that he was still having nightmares every night?

_**No.** _

They never cared.

He's always been alone in this. It's always been _him._

It's _his_ fault.

The only thing he's done for everyone else is put more weight on their shoulders.

He's a reckless, idiot, rookie and that's all he'll ever be to them.

He'll never be the insecure, traumatized, almost Prime that he _really_ is.

They can't see the truth about him.

Why can't they see the truth? Why can't they see who he is?

Who he's become.

He's not the same Cybertronian that they found after he escaped a Decepticon ship.

He lost his fight.

Unicron can have his way. Smokescreen doesn't care anymore.

It's only a matter of time before it happens anyway.

Unicron can kill Smokescreen.

The thought of it was liberating.

He can finally join the All Spark and never have to worry about anything again.

No one needs him here anyway.

Smokescreen rested his chin on his knees.

Why couldn't it just all go away?

He thought the war was over.

Why did Megatron come back to haunt him?

He thought he was finally going to be happy.

Why did Knock Out have to leave him?

Smokescreen's throat felt tight.

He wasn't sure if it was because he was suddenly hyper-aware of his lack of voice box or because he wanted to cry.

Maybe it was both.

There was no one to see him cry up here.

He had snuck away when Unicron wasn't paying attention and come up here.

He didn't try running away.

There was no point.

His team wouldn't take him back after all this.

After he's hurt them and betrayed them.

Not to mention that punishment would surely follow once Unicron found him.

He was tired of punishment.

Smokescreen sucked in a deep breath, then he started shaking. He closed his optics finally released a sob.

A silent one.

That's all he was these days.

There was a faint touch on his helm.

Smokescreen knew that it belonged to the claws of Unicron, but he couldn't help himself from leaning into the touch, hoping to find some sort of comfort from it.

"Dear Smokescreen," Unicron's voice was soft.

Softer than Smokescreen could ever imagine possible.

"There is no need for you to be suffering on your own."

Smokescreen finally pulled away from Unicron's comforting touch and began trying to compose himself.

"Your friends seem to have finally abandoned you."

_Yes. They have._

"Not to worry. I am here to take care of you. I am here to help you."

_How?_

"With me, you will accomplish great things. You will become powerful. They will learn that they should have never let you go. Rise, and I will guide you to a better future. A future where you stand by my side and the Autobots get what they deserve for abandoning such a pure and bright spark."

So that was it.

_That's why you want me, isn't it?_

"Your spark? Yes. The only other spark I have seen this bright was the one that belonged to none other than Primus himself."

Smokescreen bolted up and took a few steps away from Unicron as his optics widened... He opened his mouth to state his confusion and disbelief, but he was quick to remember his lack of voice.

_What?_

Unicron had stepped closer to Smokescreen and his claws lightly touched Smokescreen's chassis. Just above his spark.

"I could not help but be drawn to it. Like a spark eater."

Smokescreen tensed and tried to step back again.

Unicron's lip plates curled up in amusement.

"But of course, there is nothing to worry about. I do not intend on taking your spark. I still have a purpose for it. But maybe after that... maybe I will take it."

Unicron's presence in his mind began to overwhelm him.

He felt weak. His systems were shutting down and everything seemed to slow down.

Unicron's other servo wrapped around Smokescreen's back, digits ending up just below one of his door wings, then rubbing against the joint.

"I am not going to hurt you."

Smokescreen wasn't entirely convinced of that, but with the way all his other processes seemed to have gone numb, he had no choice but to let Unicron hold him.

His vision was the last thing to start fading.

"There we go." Unicron let out a satisfied purr. "Rest. I will take care of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LENGTHWAYS


	30. Chapter 30

His systems came back online slowly. Something that hadn't happened since he was still traveling on his own, excluding when he woke up earlier.

He was vaguely aware that he was sitting against a wall. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but he felt too fatigued to bother moving or even online his optics and look around.

Coming out of recharge wasn't something that often happened on his own terms. He was usually awoken by Megatron suddenly barking orders or a sudden rumbling of the ship. He had also gotten used to turning his audial receptors up so that he could hear any little sound.

Being surrounded by people that he didn't completely trust and people that he knew could kill him if he wasn't paying attention made it hard to recharge peacefully.

He also locked his door, but there were vents throughout the ship, plus Megatron had total override control, and Knock Out had a medical override. Although he never suspected Megatron or Knock Out of wanting to kill him.

He could never be too sure, though.

It would have been much more preferable if the _Sky Claw_ hadn't been destroyed on his way to Earth, courtesy of Wheeljack, so that he could have had a place to be away from everyone else and sleep without questioning if Starscream had finally decided to assassinate Dreadwing in his sleep.

That was something he was very grateful for when he was finally convinced to join up with the Autobots.

He did not _join_ the Autobots.

The war's over. It doesn't matter anymore.

He was grateful for being with the Autobots because he knew that they weren't going to kill him while he recharged, at least.

It was still, of course, difficult to rest peacefully when he was surrounded by former enemies.

He knew that he was practically one of them, despite insisting that he _was not_ an Autobot every time they brought it up.

It doesn't matter.

_The war is over._

But his processor doesn't seem to realize that just yet.

Every time he turns a corner and sees anyone that wasn't Knock Out, he has to force himself to not draw a weapon.

Trying to recharge is just as bad. His systems won't slow down because _he's in the company of enemies._ He can't be allowed to lower his guard for even a moment. He especially couldn't allow himself to recharge and become even more vulnerable in the presence of people that he's fought for millennia.

It wasn't that easy.

Recharging around others was an incredible show of trust. It meant that one was willing to show their back to another. It meant they were willing to relax and let down their guard because of their trust.

The only time anyone was more vulnerable than when they were recharging was when they were interfacing.

Most people didn't have that kind of trust after a 4 million year war.

Well, most _Decepticons_ didn't have that kind of trust.

It was in their name. Being deceptive and backstabbing was basically a _requirement._ The moment a bot stepped into the Decepticon ranks, they lost any sense of trust and learned that the only thing that mattered was loyalty, lest the DJD should follow you home.

How one proved their loyalty, though, was completely up to interpretation.

Do you want to frag everyone to show how loyal you are? Go ahead. You want to prove your worth with small, but meaningful acts? You'll get there eventually. You want to catch a traitor or a spy? Good luck finding them. You want to do something big and bold that catches the attention of everyone? Enjoy the fame. You want to do it the good old fashioned way and do what you're told when you're told? The safest and often best route.

The Autobots seemed to be the complete opposite. They didn't care if you were completely loyal as long as they could trust you.

They had accepted so many Decepticon traitors so easily, even though the Decepticon had killed at least one of their fellow Autobots.

A Decepticon did one nice thing, then they were welcomed with ease into the Autobot ranks.

Knock Out had kidnapped one of the humans that the Autobots were so dead-set on protecting. He took down Optimus, with help of his electrical staff. He fought Bumblebee for the phase shifter, not to mention on several other occasions, and not just Bumblebee. That's what he did while on Earth at least. The entire list was much too long.

But then he saves Smokescreen and Knock Out's past is forgotten.

Dreadwing killed Seaspray. He almost blew up Bulkhead. He fought Optimus in the middle of the arctic. Of course, that was not all. Not even close. He could go on and on.

But then he calls them up and delivers them the Forge of Solus Prime and Optimus offered a hand without question.

Dreadwing couldn't bring himself to take that hand. He _still_ couldn't.

But he felt unbelievably accepted by the Autobots that he was beginning to think that saying he wanted to be an Autobot had nothing to do with _actually_ becoming an Autobot.

They really were funny things- those Autobots.

Does Dreadwing trust them?

He'd say yes if it was one of them asking.

But after he's spent so long trusting no one but himself and Megatron's judgment, it was difficult to admit that he barely trusted any of them.

He had learned to trust Ratchet shortly after he joined their crew on the _Nemesis._ Ratchet was a medic. he needed to trust Ratchet if he ever wanted to be able to get himself fixed or checked out.

He viewed Optimus and Magnus with a certain respect. Not quite trust in them, but trust in their words. They were incredible leaders, anyone, enemy or ally, could see that. They knew what to say and what to do. Dreadwing respected that about both of them.

Then there was Smokescreen. Dreadwing wouldn't call it _trust,_ exactly, more... _protectiveness_. Likely because of the incident involving Dreadwing and Smokescreen's lack of proper coping mechanisms. After that, Dreadwing had felt a sort of attachment to Smokescreen.

No. It wasn't attachment. He promised that he wouldn't get attached.

_Guilt._

That was it. He felt guilty knowing that he withheld information from Ratchet. He felt guilty knowing that he could have helped Smokescreen more.

No attachments. He felt guilt and sympathy.

Nothing more.

And last but not least, Wheeljack... Wheeljack was a bit more... what was it?

Was it trust? Did he trust Wheeljack? Did Wheeljack him?

Obviously, there was _some_ sort of trust between them otherwise their shared groon of recharge on the _Jackhammer_ would have never happened.

And Dreadwing would _definitely_ not feel the way he did when his processor was forcing him to watch Wheeljack die.

There was something between them, that was for sure.

That something was just a bit more... _complicated._

That was it.

It was complicated.

Something told Dreadwing that it _was_ trust and Dreadwing was just a stranger to the feeling.

Something else told Dreadwing that trust was undoubtedly there, but it was _more_ than just trust.

They both told him that _he_ was making it seem complicated.

Whether it was really as complicated as he thought or just Dreadwing making it hard, it didn't change the fact that it meant Wheeljack also trusted Dreadwing.

Even after Seaspray and hunting each other across galaxies and trying to blow each other up time after time, Wheeljack _trusted_ him.

 _Wheeljack_ trusted him.

Wheeljack trusted _him._

Yet Dreadwing couldn't find it in himself to complain about the whole ordeal.

Being trusted and not just used because he was too loyal to disobey orders was... nice. Liberating, even.

Someone trusted him just because he was _him._

A smile tugged at Dreadwing's lips.

"Ya think he's having a good dream?"

Then there was a tap against his leg and Dreadwing's optics were quick to online and he immediately tensed up.

So maybe he wasn't as comfortable here as he had thought.

Or maybe the fact that he had gotten lost in thought _proved_ that he was comfortable here.

It took his optics a moment to adjust to the light and focus on the frame squatting next to him.

White and red were obvious features, but it took Dreadwing another second longer for the remaining details to form.

"Wheeljack?" Dreadwing mumbled.

Wheeljack was still

"Yeah," the Wrecker confirmed. "Surprised to see me awake? The doctors were as well. But trust me, you aren't nearly as surprised as I was when I realized you had done the same thing I had." Wheeljack laughed. "And to think you were the one that called _me_ an idiot."

"You still are," Dreadwing argued. "You were the one that refused medical attention."

"True, but at least I still had enough energon in me to last at least a cycle before it got urgent."

"At least I did not offline in the middle of the hallway moment after insisting that I was fine."

"Yeah, you made it to the med bay, but at least I didn't need Knock Out to force me to recharge."

"Well, I would have been just fine if you had not insisted upon creating an incredibly random recharge schedule right before a fight."

Wheeljack didn't answer right away, letting Dreadwing know that he had won.

Dreadwing was about to express his victory when Wheeljack finally decided that he wasn't letting Dreadwing get the last word in.

"Pretty optics."

What Dreadwing was about to say froze on his glossa and his mouth was left open slightly. His optics, the ones Wheeljack had just called _pretty,_ widened a bit, and he tried to push himself away from Wheeljack only to be met with the wall he was seated against.

Then Wheeljack smirked.

"I win~" he taunted.

Dreadwing spluttered as he tried to find words to continue defending himself. "That- that is not... not... You... shut up."

Wheeljack's smirk turned into a genuine smile and he rested his chin on his palms. His optics lit up with amusement.

"Cute~"

Dreadwing opened his mouth again to inform Wheeljack that he was _not,_ in fact, cute, but he couldn't find the words.

Of course, Wheeljack was going to take this as far as he could before Dreadwing dissolved from embarrassment.

Dreadwing thought himself prideful and unable to be phased.

So why could two words make him react in such an undignified way?

"Alright, you two, that's enough flirting," Knock Out interrupted. "Save it for the berthroom. There are more important things to do."

Ratchet had rolled his optics and mumbled something about not being paid enough.

Wheeljack winked, then he stood and offered Dreadwing his servo.

Dreadwing almost didn't take it just to spite Wheeljack for making him look like a fool, but he had a better idea.

He took Wheeljack's hand and let himself start to pull him up, but instead of letting go once he got proper footing, he yanked Wheeljack down.

Wheeljack had actually yelped as he stumbled forward.

 _Then_ Dreadwing released Wheeljack, letting the Wrecker find his way to the floor with a loud 'thunk.'

" _Ow,"_ Wheeljack glared, but there was no resentment in it and there was pain behind his words.

Dreadwing smirked, then walked away from Wheeljack and towards Ratchet and Knock Out to figure out what the 'more important things' were.

"You seem in a better mood," Knock Out commented.

"Recharge can do that, although I will say, recharge was also the reason I was in such a foul mood," Dreadwing said, his amusement at the situation still clear in his optics. Then, before either Knock Out or Ratchet, who both seemed to be mildly concerned, could ask more about his recharge, "What do you have for us?"

Wheeljack had stood up and was at Dreadwing's side before either of the medics could explain.

"They figured out a way to help Predaking's dark energon poisoning, infection, sort of," Wheeljack explained. "It's a bit complicated."

"Good," Dreadwing replied. "The sooner he can get back in action the better."

"Yeah... but there's one issue with the whole thing..." Wheeljack awkwardly rubbed the back of his helm and avoided optic contact. "We can help Predaking... but we need to go to Shockwave to do it."

"Then we go to Shockwave. We just need Predaking back on his feet."

"Even if it means going to Shockwave?"

"Because it means saving Smokescreen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... _guys... _Listen to me for a moment. I'm sobbing... the height difference... the height difference between Dreadwing and Wheeljack... it's, although not 100% accurate, around 10 feet... Do you guys know what that means? It means Wheeljack only comes to a little above Dreadwing's elbow. This is... this is incredible news. Why haven't we realized this sooner?__


	31. Chapter 31

"I still don't like it," Knock Out protested. "Necessary or not. I'm not as fond of Shockwave as I used to be."

"Well good news, you don't have to come with us," Wheeljack replied.

"Actually..." Ratchet countered as he entered the coordinates for one of the few labs Wheeljack knew the location of. "I think it would be best if he did come."

"Why me? Take Dreadwing and Wheeljack. I'll stick around here to keep an eye on Predaking and the others while you try to convince Shockwave to help us."

"I am taking Dreadwing and Wheeljack," Ratchet said. "Why do you think I waited for both of them to wake up before we left?" Ratchet didn't wait for an answer. "Wheeljack has worked with Shockwave in the past, making him the one Shockwave is most likely to listen to. Dreadwing is going to come as a security measure. We know Shockwave has two new Predacons and Flat Line and Starscream. Having Dreadwing come with us is just a precaution. And you provide another method of persuasion. I'm sure Shockwave would love to see you now that the Predacon CNA he gave you has completely changed you. Inside and out. I can only imagine how he might feel finally getting to have a look at you after he and Flat Line worked so hard on you."

Knock Out growled.

"And if you _really_ don't want to come with us to get Shockwave, it doesn't change the fact that we're still bringing Shockwave onto the ship. You'll have to see him anyway."

"Wait, what?" Wheeljack interrupted. "I might have misheard you because I tune you out, but I'm pretty sure you just said we're bringing Shockwave _onto_ to ship."

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. And maybe you would have heard me tell you that earlier if you weren't too busy tuning me out."

"I agreed, reluctantly, I might add, with letting Shockwave look at Predaking once you told me he was probably going to either die or get corrupted by the dark energon. I do not agree with letting Shockwave on the ship. Do you know how much of a disaster that could be? I'm pretty sure everyone on this ship hates him and vice versa. He's dangerous and powerful. And didn't you mention his added muscle? We don't stand a chance against two Predacons without Predaking. Those two almost tore apart Magnus. Letting him on the ship is, for lack of a better term, illogical."

"As I've said several times," Knock Out gave Ratchet a glare.

"Then you want to _drag_ Predaking to Shockwave?" Ratchet asked. "That worked so well the first time. I'm sure it will be just as easy this time around."

Wheeljack grit his denta.

"I agree with Ratchet," Dreadwing spoke up. "Predaking is too difficult to move and this situation is too dire to let him not receive any help at all. Shockwave is dangerous, that is obvious, but we do not need to give him a reason to be hostile or to become an even bigger danger. We keep him contained to the bridge with Predaking. If he tries anything, then we can throw him into the brig. He helps Predaking, then he leaves. That is all."

"Fine," Wheeljack grumbled. "But that's _if_ he decides to help us at all."

Ratchet nodded, then opened the bridge.

Knock Out scowled but went through. Ratchet followed behind. Wheeljack made no action to move.

Dreadwing gave him a questioning look.

"I'm _not_ going."

"Why not?"

"First off, I'm injured-"

"That has never stopped you."

"-and second, I'm not in the mood to see Shockwave right now."

"What did he do?"

"Back on Dark Mount- well, the Dark Mount on Earth, we were reunited after his long thought death. Let's just say he doesn't give the warmest of welcomes. Not to mention he was the one that sent Predaking to kill me. And he gave me a good thrashing when we put our counter-attack into place. We've never exactly been on 'good terms' since before we went to war."

"That has never stopped you from working together _during_ the war though."

"Doesn't mean I enjoyed working with him."

"Then why did you?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Understandable."

There was a pause.

"So you really are not going to come with us? We might need you."

Wheeljack snorted. "Yeah right. Ratchet and Knock Out can do all the convincing for us. And again, I'm injured-"

"That has _still_ never stopped you."

Wheeljack shrugged. "First time for everything."

Dreadwing sighed. "There is no guarantee that he will be here anyway, so I guess it is not worth the fight."

"No, it's not."

Dreadwing walked towards the bridge, but before he walked through, he paused and looked at Wheejack.

"This is about Smokescreen, isn't it," Dreadwing finally realized.

"So what if it is?"

"You are going to do something while the rest of us are gone."

"Who says I am?"

"You do. All of you says that you are going to do something reckless and undoubtedly get yourself even more hurt. Or _killed._ "

"Ratchet told me about the transmission you got from Smokscreen while I was still out of it... I didn't like it. Ratchet told me I was staying put. I didn't like that either. Do you know what Smokescreen must be going through right now? He can't speak and now he can't hear. He's being forced to do things against his will. He's suffering. We can't afford to sit here and do _nothing_ while he's the one out there being _killed._ "

"Wheeljack, trust me, I know. I stormed in here after Ratchet gave the orders and demanded that they let me save Smokescreen. Knock Out ended up using his venom to get me to stay down. I do not want to see Smokescreen die."

"Then why haven't you done anything."

"Because I do not want to see anyone else die either. Being reckless and making decisions half conscious and half fueled then acting on those decisions is one of the worse decisions anyone can make. I realized that after some recharge. It does not change the fact that I still want to save Smokescreen. It does not change the fact that we _all_ want to save Smokescreen. We are not because we know that if we rush in, we will only cause more harm than good and we might only end up making it worse for Smokescreen. This is for the best. We need Predaking and we need Shockwave to save Predaking. We need Optimus. _Then_ we can save Smokescreen and we can know that we _will_ save him."

Wheeljack finally walked to the bridge. "Fine, we'll get help from Shockwave. For Smokescreen."

"For Smokescreen," Dreadwing repeated, then they both entered the bridge.

Ratchet and Knock Out were waiting impatiently on the other side.

"About time," Ratchet grumbled.

"What took so long?" Knock Out questioned, a giddy tone to it.

"Talking," Wheeljack replied simply.

"Yes, of course, 'talking,'" Knock Out smirked. "You sure there wasn't any glossa to glossa action going on?"

"No," Wheeljack said, then he looked at Dreadwing, letting his optics flicker up and down the larger seeker's frame. "Well, not _yet_ , at least."

Dreadwing almost tripped and Wheeljack smirked.

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Kids these days," he muttered, then he started walking towards a half-destroyed door, of sorts.

"Now, now, Doc, we're not that young," Wheeljack followed the medic to the door.

"Clearly not," Ratchet replied.

Once they had all arrived at the door, they examined it for a moment. It was a massive bast door, although half of it was gone. Either destroyed or worn down.

But seeing as this was the newest base Wheeljack could identify, it was likely the first.

"We sure he'll be here?" Knock Out asked.

"No, but this is the most likely place he would be," Ratchet said.

"Then what, exactly, are we waiting for? I don't want to be in Shockwave's company longer than I half to be. I do not think he is very fond of me after I betrayed Megatron."

"Ratchet, would you like to lead the way?" Wheeljack asked.

"You two really don't like Shockwave, do you?" Ratchet asked.

"He's kinda creepy," Wheeljack pointed out.

"What was that you were saying about not being young?"

"Haha."

Dreadwing pushed past them and walked through the door.

"I guess Dreadwing's leading, then," Wheeljack shrugged.

"We do not have time to stall right now."

Wheeljack tensed.

_Right._

_For Smokescreen._

Navigating the half-collapsed hallway ended up proving a difficult task with Dreadwing leading. He was much taller and larger than the others meaning that the narrow passageways were easy for the others, but it was nearly impossible for him. The number of times he had almost hit his helm against a low beam and the amount of times he _did_ hit his wings on a wall he misjudged the distance from was starting to become unreal.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken the lead.

But he wasn't going to just be sitting around while Ratchet and Wheeljack bickered either.

This was Predaking's life on the line. This was everyone's life on the line.

But most importantly, this was _Smokescreen's_ life on the line.

"I'm starting to think that Shockwave isn't here," Wheeljack commented as he cringed as Dreadwing's wings had, once again, scraped against metal.

The sound was awful.

"There's no way he could fit through here. There's no way two _Predacons_ could fit through here if you and Knock Out can't fit."

Knock Out was, also, struggling to get through. He had resorted to just forcing some of the passages wider to fit through them.

"No, he's here," Ratchet said.

"You sure?" Knock Out asked with a bit of snarl, followed by some more metal being torn.

"I know he is," Ratchet confirmed. "There were claw marks around the area. Predacon ones."

"Then how did they fit through here?" Wheeljack asked.

"I am starting to think that there is an alternate entrance to the lab," Dreadwing said.

"We should have looked around a little more then," Wheeljack replied.

Dreadwing stopped walking. Wheeljack ran right into his back.

"Ow-"

"He is here alright," Dreadwing cut him off.

Wheeljack peeked around Dreadwing's around.

There was a smaller opening that opened into a much bigger room. It was filled with orange-ish yellow light and _several_ undeveloped Predacons.

"Ah, it would seem he is," Wheeljack muttered.

"And it would seem he hasn't given up on Project Predacon either," Ratchet added.

"Then let's get out of this cramped tunnel and pay our mad scientist a visit."

Dreadwing forced the small opening wider, then he carefully stepped through, followed by the others.

"Doesn't seem like he's home," Wheeljack looked around. "What a shame."

"What are you doing in here?"

"Or he is," Wheeljack turned to Shockwave, who had appeared from behind one of the containment units.

"We need your help," Ratchet said without hesitation.

"And what makes you think I will help you?"

"You never asked what we need help with."

"I do not want to know. Your problem is none of my concern."

"What if I said it had to do with a Predacon."

Shockwave turned and gazed at Knock Out for a moment, likely analyzing him from afar.

"Which one?" Shockwave finally asked.

"Your favorite one, or at least, I think he's your favorite, seeing as he was your first."

"Ah... _that_ Predacon."

"Whom other than the king himself?"

"What is the issue? Can you not control him? I assure you I will not help if that is the case."

"He's been poisoned by dark energon."

...

"What?"


	32. Chapter 32

"I said Predaking's been poisoned by dark energon," Ratchet repeated.

"I heard what you said," Shockwave finally stepped away from what he was currently doing and towards them. "I want to know how this happened and when this happened. There is no dark energon on Cybertron. It is illogical that he should be suffering such a fate without something to cause it."

"Except there is something that caused it," Wheeljack spoke up. "And that something's name is Unicron."

Shockwave stared at Wheeljack. "That is completely illogical," he replied without even the slightest pause. "Unicron is trapped within the core of Earth and that is where he is going to remain for the rest of time."

Wheeljack raised his hands defensively and stepped away from the approaching scientist. "Okay, so I said Unicron, but it's a little more along the lines of Megatron being possessed by Unicron. Unicron himself is not actually here. Sorry 'bout the confusion."

"Lord Megatron is dead. I watched it happen."

"And so did almost everyone else," Ratchet replied.

Shockwave's fins twitched. "Precisely. The events you are trying to explain are not only extremely illogical but highly unlikely. If you want me to help you with whatever situation you are in, I suggest you tell it to me straight. Lying to me will not get you what you want."

"Good thing we're not lying then, huh?" Wheeljack shrugged.

"Yes," Dreadwing agreed. "It is a good thing that we actually saw Unicron in Megatron's body and actually fought him, otherwise we would not be able to get crucial assistance from Shockwave in order to save Predaking's life and save Smokescreen from Unicron's mind control."

"The traumatized child?" Shockwave questioned. "You never said anything about him being involved in this either."

"We're all involved," Ratchet said flatly. "You'll be involved eventually as well. Why not sooner rather than later?"

Shockwave stared at Ratchet blankly, not like he could show any emotion with a single optic anyway.

"Listen, you don't have to help us with Smokescreen," Knock Out reasoned. "We just want help figuring out how to save Predaking before he also falls victim to the control of dark energon."

"I am not going to help you just because Predaking is involved," Shockwave turned away from them and back to inspecting the developing Predacons. "Now get out of my lab before I call Darksteel and Skylynx down here and let them tear you apart."

"Then how about for old times sake?" Wheeljack asked.

"Get Out."

"Oh well," Wheeljack shrugged, clearly not disappointed at all. "It seems he doesn't want to help us. I guess we'll just have to leave."

The Wrecker had started walking back toward the narrow tunnel that had just come through, but he was stopped by Dreadwing's hand.

Dreadwing narrowed his optics. "We are not leaving."

"He's not going to help us," Wheeljack narrowed his own optics in return. "Shockwave said _no._ "

"I am _not_ taking 'no' for an answer," Ratchet's voice was strong and furious. A hint of desperation as well. "We've all had our differences in the past and, trust me, I wouldn't be here asking for your help unless I absolutely needed it, but right now there are more important things at play. You will come and help us with Predaking, then you can come crawling back to your lab and never show your face, or lack thereof, ever again."

"How convincing," Shockwave drolled.

"I didn't know you were able to be sarcastic."

"I work with Starscream, not by choice. Obviously."

"How does that-"

"No, no, he's right," Knock Out said. "Starscream does that to people. Even Shockwave, I guess. The only way you can deal with Starscream is by becoming equally bitchy."

"So where is ol' Screamy anyway?" Wheeljack asked.

"Likely cowering while the Predacons hunt him," Shockwave answered. "They enjoy tormenting him to no end. It is highly entertaining, although it can be disruptive."

"I'd pay to see that."

"What about Flat Line?" Knock Out asked, glancing around the large room. "Is he staying with all of you as well?"

"Yes, he is. He has likely gone out to locate anything of use to us. I am not sure if he would like to see you anyway. Neither of us is very fond of you after you attacked us." A slight pause. "Several times."

"I get it," Knock Out said, tapping his claws together once, then there was a tiny rumble in his through it turned into a growl with each word. "You don't like me. You've said that before. It was a mistake of an experiment. Well, I'll have you know that I wasn't exactly a _happy volunteer_."

"I am still mildly surprised that you lived," Shockwave walked around the containment unit, not taking his optic away from the creature inside. "The Predacon CNA was tearing your body apart from the inside."

"What!"

Why was Knock Out surprised? He was a medic. Could he not see his own symptoms?

"Oh? Did we not mention that? Your regular CNA and the Predacon CNA implanted into you with the arm fought each other. The Predacon CNA was, without doubt, the victor of the fight. It destroyed half of your memories and half of your other processes. It was only a matter of time before the Predacon CNA completely destroyed your body from the inside out. Plus, Starscream had pretentiously boasted about how he had shot you through the spark and not even the miracle doctor Ratchet could save you."

"I don't believe in miracles," Ratchet huffed. 

"And we clearly underestimated your medical capabilities if you were not only able to save Knock Out after that, but also restore his memories and his control."

"Clearly."

"Or..." Shockwave stopped walking but still didn't face them. "He did die and you used the Omega Lock to bring him back to life just like it did for your scout."

"So what if we did?"

"The idea of it makes me wonder."

"I don't like when you wonder," Wheeljack said.

"At the time Knock Out would have been put into the Omega Lock, there still would have been two types of CNA within him."

Shockwave had started pacing. Not just around the Predacon clones, but around the rest of his lab as well. His hand occasionally waved in vague gestures as he spoke.

"The Omega Lock cyber form and restore, as seen with Dark Mount on Earth and Cybertron. Of course, it would restore all the damage done do Knock Out, most definitely saving his life. But now, this is where I start wondering. If Knock Out had two types of CNA, which of those two would have been restored by the Omega Lock? Now, clearly, based on the fact that he still wears his Predacon form and might, it would be most logical to say that the Predacon CNA was the one that was restored and took over. But on the other hand, the fact that he is perfectly sane and holds all his memories from before the experiment, one would make the assumption that it was his regular CNA that was restored."

"I told you I didn't like it when he wondered," Wheeljack grumbled.

"But here you are, the body of a Predacon, but the mind of Knock Out," Shockwave continued, completely ignoring Wheeljack's commentary. "That means that the Omega Lock would have restored _both_ parts of you, which answers my first question."

"Great," Knock Out rolled his optics. "Problem solved. Can we get back to you helping us?"

Shockwave shook his head. "But all that only leads to another question."

"There's more?" Knock Out groaned.

"He's Shockwave," Wheeljack pointed out. "Of course there's more. I had to listen to these rants every single time he discovered something new or right before he went pedes first into a completely farfetched experiment."

"The second question is: If both types of CNA are back in your body, then why do they not seem to be fighting each other again? I find it unlikely that they have suddenly gotten along. Your CNA is still fighting. You are still being destroyed by your disagreeing functions." Shockwave stopped walking abruptly. "That leads to my final question." Then he turned to Knock Out, fins flickering once analytically and optic brightening slightly in curiosity. "Why aren't you dead?"

There was silence.

"If..." Knock Out began hesitantly. "If I'm being completely honest... I'm not sure. I didn't even know my body was fighting itself. I had always just thought that my pain or malfunctioning systems was a result of me not being used to the Predacon body."

"And you call yourself a doctor," Shockwave remarked. "If you would be so willing, I would like to investigate this matter further. I can not help but let my curiosity get the better of me in a situation such as this."

"You're not going to be doing anything with me," Knock Out growled.

"Oh? You do not want to know if you are dying or not? It would really be a simple process. Maybe a scan or two, then, of course, if you would like, I can try to isolate the Predacon CNA from your own CNA, and perhaps I might even be able to save you while also discovering how to save future incompatible experiments."

"You're not going to be doing anything with me," Knock Out repeated. "Not until you help us save Predaking. There's something else you can do while also conducting an experiment. I know you're interested in dark energon. I know you want to experiment with it a little. This is your chance. You can experiment with dark energon and also save one of your precious Predacon creations in the process. Then- once all that is finished- then you can perform all the little tests and experiments you want on me."

"Fine," Shockwave agreed reluctantly. "I will look at Predaking, but I can not guarantee that I will be able to do anything for him. I have done some research into dark energon, but injuries caused by it are not included in that research. Even if I can not save Predaking, you, Knock Out, must uphold your side of the deal."

"Of course," Knock Out hissed through grit teeth.

"And you will allow me to bring Darksteel and Skylynx with me."

They were quick to voice their objections.

"Please, allow me to explain myself," Shockwave interjected. "I am about to walk onto an enemy ship surrounded by people that I have either tried to kill or have tried to kill me. I would like to bring some sort of reinforcements with me to defend myself in the instance that this is all a trap you Autobots are creating to lure me in and capture me."

They all sent him glares.

"It is only logical."

"Alright, you can bring your Predacons," Ratchet grumbled in agreement. "But just so you know, if you try anything with them, we won't hesitate in trying to kill you once more."

"Your paranoia is completely logical. I will not harm any of you. Darksteel and Skylynx are a little more rebellious, so they may not be entirely willing to cooperate."

"You get them to behave or the deal is off," Knock Out said with a hint of a growl in his voice.

Shockwave stared for a moment in silence before his finials lowered.

It was times like this when Shockwave cursed his curiosity for drowning out his logic.

"I will do my best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that although Shockwave is usually quiet, he can go on and on when he has a hypothesis to test or theory to explain.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I in love with ultra magnus?
> 
> maybe...
> 
> am I in love with minimus ambus?
> 
> ...
> 
> yes

Wheeljack wasn't a big fan of Predacons.

Knock Out wasn't so bad because he knew Knock Out before Shockwave and Flat Line decided to go around attaching limbs, that was most certainly not compatible, onto Decepticon traitors.

He was still extremely cautious around Predaking. Sure, Predaking didn't seem interested in killing or maiming Wheeljack anymore, it doesn't change the fact that it had happened several times back on Earth.

It's not easy to forget about the time he was almost killed in that stupid lab at Ultra Magnus' side, no less.

Let's just say that his experience with Predacons hasn't exactly been pleasant.

And let's just say that Darksteel and Skylynx trying to tear him and Ratchet apart on sight wasn't a big help in soothing his anxieties when it came to the beasts.

Luckily, Dreadwing and Knock Out were quick to step in front of them and deter the Predacon's long enough for Shockwave to reign them in.

They didn't seem interested in harming Knock Out or Dreadwing in any way. Perhaps it was their lack of Autobot branding anywhere on their frames.

Ultra Magnus might have said something about it, but no one else seemed to mind.

In all fairness, neither of them had Decepticon brands when they _were_ Decepticons and Dreadwing wasn't actually an Autobot either.

The fact that Knock Out was also a Predacon seemed to throw them for a bit of a loop as well.

Of course, he wasn't as big as they were, but he still held the bulk and pointed plating and the sharp claws and the fangs. No wings though, but many spines covered his frame.

Small and flightless, but clearly a Predacon.

Their optics lit up and the curiosity and excitement practically oozed from their frames.

They glanced back at Shockwave then to Knock Out again.

"You're one of us?" Darksteel asked though it wasn't quite a question and a bit more of a statement.

"He's one of you," Shockwave confirmed. "His name is Knock Out."

"How come you haven't told us about him?" Skylynx asked, studying Knock Out with intent.

"Because he is not a full Predacon," Shockwave explained. "I like to think of him as a failed successful experiment."

Knock Out growled a little.

"No wonder he's so small," Skylynx remarked with amusement.

"Sometimes it's not the size that matters," Darksteel said, then he looked down at Knock Out. "What does your beast mode look like? How strong are you? Do you-"

"You can learn all about him later," Shockwave cut him off before he could bombard Knock Out with any more questions. "I called you here because I want extra security when I board the Autobot's ship."

"Why would you board it in the first place?" Skylynx asked.

"They're Autobots," Darksteel added, obvious disgust in his voice as he motioned to Ratchet and Wheeljack.

"The war is over," Shockwave replied. "There is no such thing as Autobots or Decepticons anymore. They asked for my help and who am I to deny the request of one of my creations to help another. They are not our enemies anymore."

"So what if they aren't your enemies right now, but what about before?" Skylynx asked. "Weren't you enemies for millennia?"

"I am not helping them because I have suddenly had a change of spark and want to become allies with them. There are much bigger things going on outside of my labs."

"You sure it's not because you like us?" Wheeljack teased.

Shockwave ignored him.

"As Shockwave said, bigger things," Ratchet rolled his optics. "So if you don't mind, we really must be getting on to those bigger things."

"And who put you in charge?" Darksteel growled, stepping closer to Ratchet, plating flaring slightly.

"We don't listen to Autobots," Skylynx snarled, doing the same.

Ratchet rolled his optics, not even fazed by the Predacon's attempted display of intimidation, and glanced at Shockwave.

"Darksteel, Skylynx, come along," Shockwave motioned for the Predacons to step away from the Autobots and towards the exit, which was apparently _not_ the narrow tunnel the Autobots had squeezed themselves through to get in here in the first place.

Everyone else followed, not wanting to be in the dark lab lit by the test tube of a growing Predacon any longer than they had to.

Wheeljack never liked Shockwave's labs. They were always unnecessarily dark and ominous. Would it kill him to put in a lava lamp or something? It would really lighten the mood.

But _noooo_ , he had to be edgy and brooding and live in his cave labs.

At least Wheeljack knew what light fixtures were.

So he was happy to leave Shockwave's little hidey-hole and return back to the bright surface of Cybertron.

Ratchet and Shockwave had led them out of the lab while they conversed about the gravity of the situation everyone was now forced into and Predaking's current condition.

They were talking quietly and Wheejack had only bothered to listen to snippets of their back and forth questions and answers.

"--I'm afraid that if--"

"--Have you thought about the possibility that--"

"--If the dark energon has gotten too far--"

"--We might be too late already--"

"--It is a risky idea and I wouldn't--"

"--Although I am sure that with the right tools and--"

"--It's best if you see Predaking's injuries and vitals for--"

"--I'm confident that--"

They didn't seem interested in involving Wheeljack in the conversation, so he couldn't care less about actually paying attention to it.

It was hard to hear it anyway with the two new Predacons interrogating Knock Out behind him

"Can we see your beast mode?"

"Later."

"How good are you in a fight?"

"I can be."

"Since you can't fly, how fast can you run?"

"I've never actually calculated it but faster than Ratchet can drive, that's for sure."

"How do you have so many spines?"

"They provide an extra defense mechanism. I wouldn't touch them. They're coated in poison, along with my claws and fangs."

"How long have you been alive for?"

"Much longer than either of you."

"Why are you with the Autobots?"

"Because I am hopelessly attached to one of them and they have not given up on me, even though I've given them quite a lot of grief."

"How come you aren't a full Predacon? I thought that was the only type of Predacon."

"I was just a regular Cybertronian. Shockwave and Flat Line decided to experiment on me and this was the result."

"What did you look like before you became a Predacon?"

"I can show you later."

"Why-"

"Rowdy, are they not?" Dreadwing leaned down and mumbled.

It was barely above a whisper, but it had suddenly become the loudest sound in the world.

Wheeljack looked up at Dreadwing and smiled. "I think Miko'd like them."

"Miko... Miko..." Dreadwing repeated. "That is the femme human, correct?"

"That's the one."

Dreadwing nodded. "Yes. She would get along with them quite well."

"If they weren't, you know, set on killing Autobots."

"Predaking changed, why not them?"

"Predaking had a bit more of a reason to switch sides," Wheeljack cringed at the memory of the lab exploding, then receiving a thrashing from the furious Predacon.

The news that Shockwave had allowed them to destroy the next generation of clones was incredible news the next time he came face to face with Predaking. If his anger hadn't been redirected, he and Magnus would have most certainly been the first to fall at Predaking's servos.

"Speaking of switching sides," Wheeljack began. "We never got the full explanation as to your sudden change of spark."

"Ah," Dreadwing straightened his posture and had stopped speaking in his hushed tone. "You were not on Earth when it happened. Neither was I. My brother... my spark-twin... he was killed by the Autobots."

"And I thought we were supposed to be the merciful ones," Wheeljack muttered. "But how come you're still helping us then?"

"Because although your team was the original downfall of Skyquake, Starscream was the one that used dark energon to bring him back to life as a mindless zombie. Starscream disrespected his death. That was what made me first realize that maybe I did not want to be with the Decepticons. After much more thought, I decided to lend a hand to the Autobots and betray Megatron. I almost went off and killed Starscream too, but Knock Out had advised me against it in the instance that I would be killed as well. Ever since then, I have lent my servos when you have asked, although I still have no intention of becoming an Autobot.

"I always knew you had a vendetta against Starscream. I could never figure out why."

"Yes, well, now you know."

There was a fitting moment of silence between them, allowing the conversations going on between the others to become prominent to fill the pause.

Ratchet and Shockwave's conversation, in particular, had caught their attention.

"--The risk extends to Dreadwing and Wheeljack--"

"What about me?" Wheeljack quickly asked.

Ratchet glanced over his shoulder and gave Wheeljack a look of annoyance at the Wreckers interruption.

"We think that you might have also suffered some side effects of being around dark energon weapons, even if you weren't actually hit by them," Ratchet ended up explaining, despite his earlier demeanor.

"Ratchet explained that both of you were expressing certain symptoms and have both been lacking in recharge," Shockwave added. "I think that it is very possible that Unicron is somehow causing this."

"Ah... well..." Wheeljack awkwardly rubbed the back of his helm.

Shockwave stared between them intensely. "Unless... you have an explanation for it."

"Nightmares..." Wheeljack mumbled.

"You do not lose recharge over nightmares, Wheeljack," Shockwave said. "I know that about you, at least."

"Well, the two have seemed particularly close as of late," Ratchet remarked with a hint of a smirk.

"Oh?" Shockwave's fins flicked up with intrigue.

"These nightmares aren't like the ones I've had before," Wheeljack defended. "They weren't about things that have happened in the past. They're about things that could happen."

"Is that what they are called?" Dreadwing asked. "Nightmares?"

"Normally they are called dreams," Ratchet explained. "But the bad ones are called nightmares."

"Then I think I had those as well," Dreadwing concluded, more than a little disturbed as he most likely remembered the details of some of the nightmares.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "And you're _sure_ this has nothing to do with anything that you two might be doing with each other."

"I had to watch our attack on Dark Mount happen again and again and every single time, someone died," Dreadwing said, not amused by Ratchet's comment. "Then, I had to find Smokescreen's mutilated body and there was no one to blame except myself. It had felt so real that I almost went out and flew to Dark Mount just to make sure that Smokescreen was still alive."

"Wait," Wheeljack held up his hand while his other one pressed against his optics. "You're telling me that you had a nightmare about finding Smokscreen's body that made you so convinced that it was real that you couldn't sleep anymore and had to immediately do something about it?"

"I did," Dreadwing confirmed with confusion. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Wheeljack looked up. "I'm saying that we had the same nightmare."

There was a pause of realization from all parties.

Even the Predacons had stopped their chatter.

"Huh," Wheeljack shrugged in bemusement. "Something about that doesn't feel right."

Ratchet and Shockwave gave each other a wary glance.

"Then perhaps you were right," Ratchet said.

Shockwave nodded. "Unicron has most certainly dug himself deeper under our plating than we thought."

"All the more reason to hurry this up and wall him off before he can inadvertently hurt anyone else," Knock Out suggested. "Even as a medic, there's only so much I can heal without losing my own mind."

"Don't worry, Knock Out, not even I've reached that point yet," Ratchet commented. "You've got a long way to go."

Knock Out let out a short laugh. "Nice of you to look at the positives, Ratchet, but I'm not entirely sure I do."


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I starting to go through the earlier chapters and heavily edit them because I have nothing better to do with my life now that I'm on Christmas break?
> 
> yes. yes, I am (I've only gone through the first two as of this point)

Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee had weekly calls with Jack, Miko, and Raf. Occasionally June and Agent Fowler would join the calls just to check in on them.

It was always exciting to get to see them again, and seeing as the humans couldn't come to Cybertron all the time because of its toxic atmosphere, the calls would have to suffice.

Miko always went on for hours about everything that happened this week or the monster truck rally or demolition derby that was going on that weekend. She talked all about the new bands she had found and the new song chords she had come up with. She obviously missed seeing the Autobots every day, but she sounded like she was still enjoying her life.

Jack talked about how he and Vince had actually become, sort of, friends. Jack called it being friends, Vince called it not being rude. He said he missed having a ride, other than his mom or a bike, to work and school, but he seemed to be doing just fine.

Rafael wasn't much of a talker, but once he got started on a new computer software that he was working on, he could go on and on. He talked about all his latest science projects and his interesting classes. He sometimes complained about Miko being too loud or bothering him when he was trying to do homework. He missed spending time with Bumblebee, but he was doing well in life.

Getting to hear from Earth again was always the highlight of their week. It was something that brought smiles to the faces of a lot of the other Autobots too. Wheeljack loved joining in on the calls to hear from Miko. Ratchet, despite his complaining, enjoys hearing about what trouble they are getting themselves into. Smokescreen popped in every once in a while too. He never stayed long enough for the humans to ask how he was doing, though. Even Optimus has stopped by on occasion to greet them before he left to resume his leadership responsibilities.

There was a time where they caught Wheeljack running from Ratchet after skipping another medical examination. Another time, they hosted a drag race, although it was promptly stopped by Ultra Magnus. They found Dreadwing brooding in a corner for a solid five minutes before he finally realized that the humans were watching and finally gave them a small nod of acknowledgment, then left.

Then, the Autobots would share what was going on around Cybertron. They'd talk about all the buildings that were being restored, all the Vehicons that had happily left the Decepticons, and all the advancements they were making. They talked about how beautiful Cybertron was, but they always mentioned that they wished the kids could be there to see it all.

But this week, they were dreading that call.

They were still happy to hear about what was going on down on Earth, but the second Miko excitedly asked what was going up there, they all froze and remained silent.

 **"Uh... guys?"** Miko waved at the screen a few times. **"Raf, did the video freeze up?"**

 **"It shouldn't have,"** Rafael replied, adjusting his glasses slightly and getting a better look at the feed.

"Ah- sorry," Bulkhead apologized. "Nothing good has really happened."

"It's been a rough week," Arcee added.

 **"There has to be something good,"** Miko insisted.

"Well, Knock Out and Predaking came back, I guess that's good," Bumblebee commented.

 **"See!"** Miko smiled. **"That's something good. How is the good ol' Doc Knock and Dragon-bot doing?"**

"Knock Out's... doing alright, I guess, but, he's going through some stuff right now," Bulkhead said hesitantly. "And..."

"And Ratchet's pretty sure Predaking is dying," Arcee said flatly.

" _Arcee_ ," Bumblebee hissed.

"What? I'm just saying it like it is," she raised her arms in defense. "Unicron has arrived. Predaking's dying. Knock Out's depressed. Ultra Magnus is in a medically induced coma because there are two more Predacons running around. Wheeljack got shot, then passed out. Smokescreen's been kidnapped by _Megatron_ , mind-controlled, had his voice box and audial receptor ripped out, and he is most likely suicidal. Optimus is off-world doing who knows what, and Ratchet won't let any of us off the _Nemesis_. Oh- and Ratchet informed us that Dreadwing is also in the med bay because he's not sleeping and refueling properly. And we can't do _anything._ All in all, I think it's been a _great_ week."

"Sheesh," Bulkhead winced. "You really didn't try to soften the blow at all."

"They're the ones that asked how our week was going," Arcee motioned towards the screen, where the humans stared with wide eyes and dropped jaws. "I'm sorry that I'm just being realistic."

" _Realistic,"_ Bumblebee repeated it like it was the name of some vile Decepticon that had brutally murdered an entire city. "That's all anyone seems to be these days."

"It's all there is to be these days," Arcee said grimly, then she stood up and left, not even bothering to say goodbye to the children.

Bumblebee stood and went after her. "Arcee! This really isn't the time to-"

The door closed behind him and cut off the rest of the conversation.

Bulkhead shifted awkwardly and stared at the floor, carefully avoiding looking at the humans.

 **"Bulkhead...?"** Miko began softly. **"Is that... is that all true?"**

Bulkhead finally looked up at the screen, meeting the concerned faces of the humans.

"Sorry..." Bulkhead mumbled. "You shouldn't have had to hear all that. These are our problems. You don't need to worry about it."

 **"Megatron's... alive?"** Jack asked, clearly not able to grasp the concept.

 **"And Smokescreen's been taken by him... again,"** Rafael added quietly.

"It's not _really_ Megatron," Bulkhead explained. "It's Unicron possessing Megatron's body. But yeah... Smokescreen's been taken and tortured by him."

 **"Poor Smokey..."** Miko whispered. **"I wish we could help him..."**

"Don't worry," Bulkhead tried to offer his best smile, though it probably looked more like a sad grimace. "We're dealing with it."

**"Bulkhead-"**

"It was nice talking to you. Goodbye."

Bulkhead hung up before he could regret it or before they could say anything else.

They were concerned about everyone, but they didn't need to be. They were just kids. They shouldn't be plagued by what's going on light-years away on Cybertron. They should be worrying about math tests and what they're going to have for lunch tomorrow, not depression and despair.

They were too young to understand this all.

Bulkhead sighed and walked out of the room, trying to figure out where Bumblebee and Arcee had gone off too. They had better things to do than argue.

They could be working out how they were going to take out Unicron and how they were going to save Smokescreen. That was the most important situation they had to deal with right now. They could worry about restoring and repopulating Cybertron after they had all their Autobots back. That included Optimus.

Why did he have to leave at such an inopportune time? They needed him right now. They needed a leader. Someone that could inspire and direct them all while they were stuck in this momentary slump. They really needed Optimus back.

What was so important that he had to leave immediately? Couldn't it have waited a day or two? Couldn't he have taken care of Unicron, then left?

Bulkhead found himself walking to the bridge instead of looking for the others. He had been worried about Wheeljack and Ratchet hadn't given him any updates on his fellow Wrecker's status.

He could hear the voices on the other side of the door, but it was more than just Ratchet and Knock Out. That could only mean that Wheeljack and Dreadwing were up. Maybe Predaking as well.

That would be a relief.

Ratchet had been endlessly worried about Predaking's condition, so if Predaking was up, that meant the dark energon wasn't as bad as they thought it was. It also meant that they could start planning their attack on Unicron right away.

Bulkhead didn't bother knocking. He never had a knack for manners, even in the med bay. He should probably work on those, though.

The door slid open and he felt like he froze.

There were quite a few more people than just Wheeljack, Dreadwing, and Predaking that were awake on the bridge. Predaking wasn't even one of them.

Ratchet glared at him, definitely upset about the fact that he didn't knock or otherwise declare his presence. Knock Out hadn't bothered to turn in his direction at all, but he undoubtedly knew that Bulkhead was standing in the doorway, judging by the way he sighed. Wheeljack had looked up and waved at him from the other side of the room. Dreadwing was by his side and looked like he had just been cut off mid-sentence, which was most likely true. Two Predacons- Bulkhead didn't know why they were here, especially after what they did to Magnus and Smokescreen- growled at him the moment they saw him. The most unsettling thing about the whole scene was by far the mass of purple hunched next to Ratchet and over Predaking. Then the mass turned and that horrifying, red optic stared at him.

He should _definitely_ work on those manners.

But right now, he couldn't decide if he should get angry at the fact that Shockwave was currently on their ship, or if he should quickly apologize and be on his way, acting as he had never seen anything.

He went with a mix of the two.

"Sorry, but what is _Shockwave_ doing on our ship?" he asked with a glare to the Decepticon scientist.

"Helping," Shockwave answered, then he promptly got back to finish whatever he was 'helping' with.

"I find it best not to question Ratchet's decisions and just go with them," Wheeljack shrugged. "Not that I like it any more than everyone else here."

"But... but what is he doing here?" Bulkhead repeated.

"He's likely saving Predaking's life," Ratchet finally answered. "If you don't like him here, you can leave. The war's over. He's not our enemy anymore. We needed his help."

"Wasn't there _anyone_ besides Shockwave you could go to? Just because he's not our enemy now doesn't mean we're all buddy-buddy with him."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Bulkhead, but we really don't have a lot of options of help right now," Knock Out said. "It was either get help from Shockwave or let Predaking die. I hate both options, but I hate the second one more. What would you choose?"

Bulkhead swallowed awkwardly. "Shockwave. I would go to Shockwave."

"Exactly," Knock Out turned to him and gave him a toothy grin. "Now, if that's all, get out and let the medics do their work. We already have enough people crowding the room."

"Ah- the humans called," Bulkhead remembered. "They're worried about all of us."

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Of course they are. Well, tell them that this is our problem."

"Not like they would be able to do much in the first place," Bulkhead muttered.

"No get out," Ratchet ordered as he pointed toward the door.

Bulkhead raised his arms and stepped back. "Right, right. Sorry-" The door closed quickly. "I'll... come back later then..."


	35. Chapter 35

Shockwave finally finished his examination of Predaking and stepped back to begin on the solution.

"So?" Wheeljack asked expectantly.

"He will live," Shockwave answered, focussing on what he was currently typing into one of the monitors.

"That's it? He'll live?" Wheeljack sounded almost offended. "We need Predaking awake. We need him fully recovered. 'He'll live' isn't what we need to know. We need to know if he'll fight."

"Would you like to be the one that figures out how to remove the dark energon completely from his systems then?" Shockwave turned to Wheeljack angerly. "Because if you do, then be my guest. This is not something I can rush through. I need to take my time, otherwise, you will end up with a useless Predacon."

"What's so difficult about flushing his systems?"

Ratchet now stared at Wheeljack too, though his look was one of more complete shock than annoyance.

"What's difficult about flushing his systems?" Ratchet scoffed. "The fact that we can't flush his systems without draining all of his energon."

"Then just do that," Wheeljack shrugged.

"You.... don't see the problem with that?" Knock Out questioned, also sharing a similar expression as Ratchet.

No, I don't," Wheeljack said. "Because if you drain it fast enough, you'll have around two minutes before he starts to completely shut down. You restore his energon completely before those two minutes are up and, BOOM, Predaking is saved."

No one said anything, though they all seemed to agree that his idea was the stupidest thing that has come out of his mouth in a while.

"Alright, you guys probably think I'm crazy and stupid, but hear me out-"

"Hear you out?" Ratchet staggered in rage and bewilderment. " _Hear you out?_ Are you even hearing yourself? You want us to _kill_ Predaking then try to bring him back in a matter of moments. Do you realize how dangerous that is? If we are even just an astro second too slow, we'll lose Predaking and likely never be able to bring him back. If he shuts down completely before we can restore his energon, not even I will be able to save him."

"But if it works, we'll have Predaking back and we won't have to worry about Unicron using the dark energon to control him."

"But the _odds_ of it working are..." Ratchet trailed off, trying to figure out the math. A moment later, he shook his head. "It's impossible."

"Of course it's not," Wheeljack dismissed Ratchet's comment. "Shockwave, what are the odds?"

"1 in 386," Shockwave answered without a moment of hesitation. "Our chance of successfully saving Predaking is 0.2584%."

"See?" Wheeljack smirked. "Not impossible."

"It's _near_ impossible," Ratchet said. "There's no way in the Pits of Kaon that we are ever going to be trying that. Even if we _did,_ somehow, succeed, it will more than likely reduce in Predaking being stuck in a coma."

"Shockwave, now what are our odds of successfully putting Predaking in a coma?"

"1 in 47. Our chance of saving Predaking by putting him into a coma is 2.0833%."

Wheeljack looked at Ratchet. "2%. Good enough for you 'miracle doctor.'"

"He'll still be in a coma!" Ratchet distressed. "He might not be dead at that point, but he won't be technically alive either."

"He can wake up from a coma, though," Wheeljack pointed out. "He can't wake up at all if he's dead."

"I may be able to boost our odds to 13.8752% if we can get him to my lab and I can use all my equipment to ensure that the process is performed more efficiently."

"Oh? We're up to 13%. I think that's promising. Ratchet?"

"No," the medic denied sternly. "It is still too much of a risk. There _has_ to be another way to do this."

"Ratchet," Knock Out began. "You saw it for yourself. You know that this is the _only_ way."

"We just need more time," Ratchet reasoned. "We can figure something out if we take more time. I'm not going to perform an operation with such a low success rate."

"If we do not remove the dark energon from his systems immediately, it will only grow to be more of a problem," Shockwave said. "We can choose to do nothing, but he will either become one of Unicron's puppets or he will die anyway. And I know for a fact that you have performed operations with even ower odds before. We will be able to perform this one just fine."

Ratchet remained silent, gritting his denta because he knew. He knew this was the only option they had. This was the only way to save Predaking.

"He's dying Ratchet," Knock Out said. "We have to do _something._ "

"We'll take him to Shockwave's lab," Ratchet finally agreed, though his approval sounded forced. "Then we will get everything Shockwave needs set up. We will take our time with this. One mistake and that 13% drops back down to 0.25%. Everything needs to be perfect. I will not be allowing this to fail."

"I do not know if you have met me, Ratchet, but I do not fail," Shockwave said. "Darksteel, Skylynx, assist in carrying Predaking. I will contact Flat Line to get his input on this matter as well. Ratchet and Knock Out, you will join me back at the lab as well."

"No offense, but if you're allowed to bring your Predacons, then don't you think we should be allowed to bring our Autobots?" Knock Out asked. "Wheeljack and Dreadwing are coming with us."

"Just Dreadwing," Shockwave proposed. "I do not feel like dealing with his criticism while trying to accomplish such a meticulous and dangerous procedure."

"I do not criticize you," Wheeljack said defensively. "I just... suggest things that could make your experiments and inventions better."

Shockwave stared blankly at him. "Like I said, criticism."

"Alright, alright, so I criticize you sometimes, but does that really mean I can't come with you?" Wheeljack conceded. "I can help, you know. This wouldn't be the first time I've had to filter out someone's systems."

"Wait... you've _done this_ before?" Ratchet asked in disbelief.

"Once," Wheeljack confirmed. "I was able to replenish their energon before they shut down, but completely refilling their energon had resulted in some further complications. Their frame wasn't prepared for going from no energon to full energon. They ended up dying anyway, though it was a few cycles after they were suspected to die."

That made every one pause.

"But I'll have you know that I learned from the last time and have realized that we don't restore all of their energon at once, we give them just enough not to die, then we progressively give them the rest," Wheeljack explained. "Also, we don't need to just filter Predaking's energon. The Dark energon blast he was hit with was not solid or liquid. It was gas and plasma. We're likely going to have to clean out his oxygen filters, and ventilation systems. I'd also start by cleaning to wound and area around it from any lingering dark energon residue. Then we perform the energon transfusion."

"Alright, you can come with us," Shockwave finally agreed. "But no criticism."

"Just suggestions and advise," Wheeljack smiled.

Shockwave sighed and resisted the urge to slap Wheeljack's triumphant smile off.

Wheeljack was a smart mech, when he wanted to be, but that doesn't change the fact that he was unreasonably obnoxious. And the fact that most of the time he chose _not_ to use his surprising amount of reasoning and intellect.

Honestly, anyone that looked at Wheeljack or saw him in action would think that he was missing half his processor and has a few screws loose. But that's not how he is. He acts that way a decent majority of the time, but if he's actually serious about something, he's like a completely different mech.

When he's focussing, he goes strangely quiet. When he's talking about his newest experiment or invention, he can start to sound like an encyclopedia. When he's alone, it's almost scary how much he changes.

Then he gets out to the battlefield or becomes surrounded by his friends and team and he's back to the idiot Wrecker that doesn't know when to not throw a grenade.

That was only part of the reason Shockwave hated- no, he didn't _hate_ Wheeljack. That was only part of the reason Shockwave strongly _disliked_ Wheeljack.

"Darksteel, Skylynx," Shockwave motioned to Predaking.

They struggled at first to lift him as they decided the perfect way to hold onto him, but once it was settled, they appeared to be handling him just fine.

Ratchet opened the bridge and Knock Out prepared a few medical tools. Dreadwing sighed and Wheeljack shrugged.

"Don't like seeing developing Predacon clones?" Wheeljack asked.

"That is not it," Dreadwing denied. "I just feel that I could lend my services elsewhere." He looked down at Wheeljack. "I am concerned with Predaking, yes, but we still need to create a plan to save Smokescreen. Just because we save Predaking does not mean Smokescreen is automatically saved as well."

"You don't have to come, you know," Wheeljack pointed out. "We can take Shockwave just fine."

"I am more worried about the Predacons."

"Don't worry about Knock Out and Predaking either. They're on our side remember?"

"You know which Predacons I am talking about."

"Yeah, I do," Wheeljack glanced at the ground bridge said Predacons had just walked through. "I'm trying to forget that they exist. I'm not so sure that we can handle them."

"Fair enough."

"So you coming or not?"

Dreadwing sighed again. "I will come. But it is only to keep you out of trouble."

"Good luck with that," Wheeljack laughed, then walked into the bridge to catch up with the others.

Dreadwing shook his head in amusement, then followed the others.

This time, the bridge was closer to the actual entrance to the lab this time, likely to accommodate for the fact that Darksteel and Skylynx were lugging Predaking around. The closer they were to the lab, the less they had to walk.

Wheeljack had walked up to Shockwave, Knock Out, and Ratchet with a slight spring in his step, clearly excited about this whole ordeal. He ended up slinging his arm around Knock Out, which surprised the doctor.

"Well doctors," Wheeljack said all too cheerfully with a slight laugh. "I do hope you know how to work quickly. Otherwise, we're going to need a miracle to save Predaking."

"I'll have you know, Wheeljack," Ratchet began. "I don't believe in miracles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Smokescreen will show up again soon. Then we'll get back to the really important and interesting stuff.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, I'm going to be having family coming over which means I'm going to be busier and I might not be able to update regularly, plus Christmas is always busy, so if I'm not able to update like normal, just now that I'm probably just busy with family. Sorry in advance.

Oh, how easy it would be to refuse to go through with such a procedure and hope Predaking’s self-repair figures out to do this itself or accept the fact that Predaking won’t live much longer. How easy it would be to say Predaking wasn’t worth their time and they should focus on Smokescreen. How easy it would be to turn back.

But they needed Predaking and they needed him alive. He was powerful and that made him vital.

Without Predaking’s strength, they likely wouldn’t stand a chance against Unicron. Especially with Optimus gone and no idea when he is going to return.

The operation wasn’t impossible, Ratchet knew that. He had never performed it before, but he had given energon transfusions several times. It wasn’t impossible, but it was extremely risky.

It was also the only way to save Predaking without risking the dark energon taking over, causing them to lose yet another to Unicron’s control.

They couldn’t afford that right now.

Not with Smokescreen’s capture still looming so dangerously low over everyone else’s heads. Not when they knew Smokescreen was being hurt beyond their control and tortured, whether physically, mentally, or both, by Unicron.

They were all too focused and distraught about Smokescreen to be able to focus on Predaking too, or anything else, for that matter.

Ratchet was worried too. How could he not be? He’s been with Smokescreen longer than Knock Out has and he knows a lot more about Smokescreen than any of the others do.

He’s been worried since the moment he realized that Smokescreen was taken prisoner on the Decepticon ship the _first_ time.

Decepticon ship… _Decepticon ship…_

Ratchet wasn’t big on religion or gods or anything of that sort. He didn’t really believe in Primus himself until Unicron- nothing more than a myth- had shown up. He never believed in Primus, but…

Dear _Primus!_ They had been keeping Smokescreen on a _Decepticon ship._

Not just any Decepticon ship, though. The _Nemesis._ They were keeping Smokescreen aboard the _Nemesis._

How could they have been so blind?

This was the ship Smokescreen was tortured, _several_ times, on. This was the ship he was raped on. This was the ship he almost betrayed everything he knew on because the rest of them were too slow to save him.

How did they not realize this sooner?

Every hallway and door must do nothing but remind Smokescreen of everything he went through. Every room he walks into must do nothing but dig the wounds deeper. Every time he walks into the medical bay, he must do nothing but relive those memories he’s been so painfully trying to keep down.

_Primus, why couldn’t they see that?_

Has Smokescreen actually been getting worse? After Ratchet’s been so careful about taking care of Smokescreen and helping him? After Ratchet though Smokescreen was getting _better?_

And he called himself a _doctor._

What kind of doctor doesn't notice these sorts of things in their patients? What kind of doctor didn't figure out that their patient was lying to their face every single day? What kind of doctor was he?"

A foolish one.

People call him the "Miracle Doctor." People go to him with injuries that no one else can fix. People go to him because they know he will try his best to save them when no one else has. He knows everything about everyone and knows how to do every medical operation that has ever been created. He's even created a few himself.

He's supposed to... he's supposed to _see_ these kinds of things. He's supposed to see the signs. He's supposed to know what Smokescreen is going through.

_Why didn't he see?_

"Dear Primus..." Ratchet mumbled. It was hardly loud enough for him to hear himself, but somehow, it made Wheeljack freeze.

"Ratchet..." Wheeljack turned to the medic like he had just seen a data ghost. "What's wrong? Please tell me you're not dying or something unbelievably terrible is happening."

Ratchet stared at Wheeljack in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You just swore to Primus, a god that you've mentioned not believing in," Wheeljack pointed out. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that we can do anything about at the current moment," Ratchet walked past Wheeljack. "And nothing that you should be worrying about. It's my own mistake that I just realized."

Wheeljack had narrowed his eyes at Ratchet, clearly even more suspicious about whatever was bothering Ratchet.

"It's not important right now," Ratchet said. "Let's focus on saving Predaking so we can save Smokescreen." Ratchet bristled the moment Smokescreen's name began making its way out his mouth.

Wheeljack had definitely seen that.

"You know something about Smokescreen that we don't," Wheeljack concluded after a moment of pause. "Don't you."

That caught everyone else's attention.

Especially Knock Out's.

"What do you know?" Knock Out demanded as he turned and gripped Ratchet's arms tightly. "Did Smoekscreen contact you? What happened?"

"No, I don't know anything more than you do," Ratchet answered. "Unless you were also as blind as I was."

"What are _you_ talking about?" Knock Out asked.

"I'll tell you later," Ratchet dismissed. "Predaking is more important right now. It's in the past now. Knowing the mistake I made know won't change what's already happened. I will be able to change the mistake in the future, but now is not the time."

"You can't just say something like that and expect us not to be at least a little curious about it," Wheeljack complained.

"Fine, you want to know?" Ratchet questioned with a hint of annoyance. "I'll tell you. This _whole_ thing- all of it- might be my fault because I didn't realize how much of an idiot I was."

"That's a word I never thought I'd hear you call yourself."

"We've been keeping him on the _Nemesis,_ Wheeljack," Ratchet's voice was nearing a yell, but it wasn't quite there yet. "The **_Nemesis_** _._ You do realize what the _Nemesis_ is, don't you?"

"I don't see where you're going with this," Wheeljack replied. "Of course I know what the _Nemesis_ is. It's the Decepticon warship that we took after we killed Mega- well fucking shit. We've been keeping Smokescreen on the _Nemesis._ "

Knock Out and Dreadwing's own optics had gone wide and they both went into a desperate rambling.

"Why didn't we know- Why didn't we see- Why- Why- Why-"

"Stop your illogical reminiscing," Shockwave interrupted. "Ratchet said that you could not change the past, and he is right. Focus on changing the future. We will deal with Predaking, then we can fix the Smokescreen problem."

There was a pause.

"Right..." Dreadwing slowly agreed. "We focus on the future."

"And I have begun preparations while you have been sidetracked with prior errors," Shockwave added. "Ratchet, if you would like to double-check my calculations and equipment, you are more than welcome to."

Ratchet nodded and walked over with Shockwave where they had placed Predaking.

Machines had already been hooked up Predaking's frame and monitors and displays were up. There were tanks of energon laying at the ready, hooked up to more machines and tubes.

Wheeljack and Knock Out had silently joined them, examining the operation plan carefully. Ratchet was double-checking it, but with a procedure so difficult and risky as this, triple checking everything is extremely important.

Everything had to be perfect. One mistake could cost them Predaking. And losing Predaking would cost them Smokescreen. And losing Smokescreen would cause overwhelming amounts of grief to everyone else.

They were all too attached to the kid.

"Set," Shockwave remarked as he finished placing the last of the energon extractors. Then his fins moved forward slightly and he placed his good hand on one of the many machines. "Ready when you are."

"Wheeljack? Knock Out?" Ratchet looked up at both of them.

"Ready," Wheeljack replied, waiting by the replacement energon.

"Ready," Knock Out nodded, stepping closer to Predaking.

Ratchet allowed his fingers to roll as he took a deep breath. He placed a digit against the switch to the energon extractor.

"Ready," he said softly, allowing his optics to brighten in concentration.

He didn't believe in gods or miracles. He believed in science and skill. He allowed people to call him the Miracle Doctor, but he never bothered to correct them that it wasn't a miracle, it was just talent.

"Set," his digit twitched against the switch.

What they were trying to perform to save Predaking was an operation with a less than 5% chance of success, no matter what Shockwave said about their odds. This operation didn't depend on tools, it depends on skill. This is not an operation that Ratchet would do unless he absolutely needed to. He doesn't even trust his own skills to perform something like this. There wasn't a second of surgery involved, just speed, timing, and maybe some luck.

People call him the Miracle Doctor, even though he doesn't believe in miracles.

But maybe he should start to live up to the name.

"Go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i misspelled Shockwave as Shnowkave then proceeded to laugh for a solid five minutes. where has my sense of humor gone?


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh the weather outside is weather~

Smokescreen enjoyed sitting on the ledge of Dark Mount and watching the star that lit Cybertron's surface rise and set. It was calming and peaceful and distracted him from all the pain he was going through. It took away the hate and fear and guilt. It allowed him to finally relax and forget all about the fact that he was helplessly trapped in Unicron's grasp and he couldn't do anything about it. No one was coming to help him either.

And it would be so easy to take advantage of the massive drop from the top of Dark Mount to the ground below. It would be so easy to just give up right then and there.

But somehow, for some reason, every time Smokescreen saw the star either sunk beneath the horizon or emerged from it, he changed his mind. He wasn't sure what it reminded him of or why it made him want to live longer, but it did. It was a magnificent sight and when he saw it, it made him want to see more.

Live just one more day to see this beautiful sight again. Then live another day, and another, and another after that. As long as it makes Smokescreen want to keep living, he'll keep watching it.

Right now it was dipping below the remains of buildings and the dark sky filled only by the light of Luna 1, Luna 2, and the faint glow of Cybertron's own surface. A slight chill came with the darkness, making Smokescreen's temperature regulators heat up to keep his inner systems warm.

Something about the planet being so empty and lifeless made it feel even colder.

As the cold settled in, he decided that he didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to be on Dark Mount, as beautiful of a view it provided, and he didn't want to be on Cybertron, despite it being his home. Most of all, he didn't want to go back to the _Nemesis._ He was done living through his nightmares over and over again. He wanted to leave this all behind. Maybe go back to Earth. Spend some time to himself. Get to see the humans. That would be nice.

Cold claws from behind reached down and hooked themselves beneath his chin, then slowly tilted his head up to stare into Unicron's brilliantly purple optics.

Why was it that the things Smokescreen hated the most were the things that were the most beautiful?

He only allowed himself to look for a moment longer before fought out of Unicron's hold and returned to looking over Cybertron.

"Smokescreen, dear."

The conversation they had the last time Smokescreen had been up here came to mind. It had left him unsettled and confused as to what Unicron truly wanted him for.

_My spark. Why does he want my spark?_

"Smokescreen."

He wasn't planning on acknowledging Unicron.

_He hated him. He hated him. He hated him._

Smokescreen might have lost his fight, but he is a long way from losing his hate.

Unicron's been just as bad as Megatron. Unicron's been _worse_ than Megatron.

But Smokescreen can't bring himself to fight anymore. He can't bring himself to care anymore.

"I know you are listening to me."

_Then talk. I don't want to see you longer than I have to._

"Is that why you enjoy sitting up here so much? You try to forget everything with a magnificent view?"

Smokescreen continued watching the horizon, the final hints of the star finally disappearing completely from view.

"I must be honest, I did not take you for that kind of mech. The memories Megatron holds of you show a naive, reckless, and resistant rookie that came to this Earth with too much energy for his own good. I never thought you would enjoy such a sight as watching the last light of the day."

_Why did you come up here?_

"Ah, yes, how could I forget-"

Smokescreen knew Unicron hadn't forgotten anything. That wasn't what Unicron was like. He remembered even the smallest details for years to come. He held grudges for millions of years. He didn't forget anything.

"-I came to inform you that my plan is fully developed and is being set into motion."

_And I need to know this because...?_

"Of course, you are to assist me in carrying out my plan. I will say, you were not originally going to be a part of my plan, but as I familiarized myself with Megatron's memories, I realized that maybe I did not want to kill _all_ Cybertronians. You would make such a pretty trophy that I changed my mind. At first, that was all you were going to be: a trophy for the Lord of the Un-Dead. Then, I saw you with my own optics and I could practically feel your spark shine as bright as it does. I changed my mind again."

_Why do you care about my spark? I'd rather you use me like a broken pleasure bot than force me to fight against the ones I care about and use me against them._

"You see, a spark as bright and pure as yours is destined for greatness. You are one of Primus' elect. One of the few that has been selected carefully to become one of the primes that lead our planet. Primes: the purest and holiest beings on all of Cybertron. I realized that you would not only make a beautiful trophy, but you could also become more. You could serve as proof against Primus that even his primes can be tamed by me. Disrespecting one of his primes would work to infuriate and humiliate him before I kill him."

_So that's what I am? A tool that is to be used for nothing but boasting?_

"Of course not. You are more than just a tool. You are a warning."

_What kind of warning?_

"I can explain that later. We must get going if we want to reach the spark of Primus before daylight."

_Why do you need me for that? I'm not much good in a fight and I'm not planning on hurting anyone of my friends._

"Friends, friends, friends. I thought you were over that. Has it not set in that they are not your 'friends' and they never will be?"

_So what if I haven't?_

"It would seem that I have to do something about that."

The claws wrapped around the back of Smokescreen's neck, gripping tightly and threatening to puncture his plating. One claw had made its way underneath Smokescreen's chin and forced his gaze upwards again.

"I hope you do not care too much about what I am going to do."

_What?_

"Trust me, this is for your own good. I would not be doing this if I did not need to. It is just that you keep forgetting your place and you continue to hang onto the past. The past holds you down, so I have decided to help you block it out."

_You're going to erase my memories? They may not be the best memories, but they make who I am! You will not touch them!_

"Do not worry about your memories. I am not going to erase your memories, just block them out for the time being. It will allow you to become stronger. Nothing will tie you down any longer."

Unicron's eyes began to glow brighter and his claws slowly began to stab their way through Smokescreen's plating.

Smokescreen fought against Unicron's hold, but he only managed to bring himself pain from the struggle.

_Don't touch my mind!_

"Shh, my dear. Relax. It will be much easier that way."

Unicron's thumb sat above the connection point of Smokescreen's spark to his processor. It rested there a moment before it dug into the seam.

A jolt ran through Smokescreen's frame, then his mind began to fog. His mind felt lighter, but dark at the same time. It felt wrong. It felt like he was shutting down. He couldn't think. Everything was cloudy. He couldn't hear himself think. He wanted it to stop.

It hurt. It was wrong. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

He couldn't move. He couldn't get away from Unicron. He couldn't fight it.

_Why was he fighting?_

It hurt. He needed Unicron out of his head. He was fighting to protect his memories.

_But which memories?_

He had so many memories, but he couldn't seem to actually _remember_ any of them. He was fighting for... He was... He was...

_Why was he fighting for something he couldn't remember?_

Smokescreen's processor began to clear itself of everything. All functions, all thoughts, all memories.

Unicron's optics flashed brightly, then everything was completely gone.

Smokescreen felt nothing, but somehow, he was overwhelmed by emotion. He couldn't feel the pain he had felt moments ago, but somehow, he couldn't take it longer.

His mind was empty, but it felt too full. It was quiet, but it was too loud. He wanted to speak. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't.

He felt like he was falling.

"There we go. Just like that."

Unicron's other servo was wrapped around Smokescreen's waist, picking him up from the ledge he had been previously seated on.

"Let it the past go. Let it all go."

Now Smokescreen was shutting down. He could feel it. He could feel his ventilation ease out and his systems slow to a near halt. His optics began to unfocus and his remaining audio receptor started to cut out.

"Free yourself from the past. You are a victor, remember, not a victim."

Smokescreen's vision finally went black. His hearing remained a moment longer. Just long enough for Unicron to finish what he was saying.

"You are going to destroy them."

A scene filled Smokescreen's empty processor.

_Him. On the battlefield. Servos soaked in energon. Bodies at his pedes. The bodies of his friends._

**_Not friends. Enemies._ **

_The bodies of his enemies at his pedes. An army at his back. An undead army of beasts half fallen apart and horrifying. Unicron at his side._

_Unicron congratulated him._

_"You have come so far. You have done me well. Maybe I will have to keep you alive just a little longer."_

_They stood at the Well. The Well of the Allspark. The source of life for Cybertron. The source of life for all Cybertronians._

_"Moments from now, the army of my undead will destroy the Allspark. You will die with it."_

_Smokescreen stared at the hole in the ground, a dim glow coming from it._

_"I can save you. You do not have to die. My blood can save you."_

_"I want to live."_

_The sound of his own voice surprised him._

_"I... can talk."_

_"Of course you can. This is your mind."_

_"Then how am I seeing this? This isn't my memory."_

_"Of course it is not. I am giving you this. This is what is to happen. This is what you did."_

_"Me? I... did this?"_

_"You will. You will become a great destroyer. You will become unstoppable. All you have to do is accept my power."_

_"I live if I do it, right?"_

_"I guarantee it."_

_Unicron extended his servo toward Smokescreen._

**_There's nothing else for you here. Nothing but death._ **

_"Then... I accept. I accept your power."_

_Smokescreen hesitantly took Unicron's hand._

_Unicron grinned, then he gripped Smokescreen's servo hard enough to crush it._

_Smokescreen let out a sound of pain as he tried to fight away._

_"It will all go away soon. Do not worry."_

_Unicron's claws plunged into Smokescreen's plating._

The scene faded to black as the intolerable suffering began.

Pain. More pain. So much pain.

"There we go."

He couldn't even bring himself to turn on his optics to remind himself of his current situation.

"You are mine now."


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope all of you had an enjoyable Christmas, or whatever else you celebrate. All my family was in town, so we went and did some stuff. It was fun, but I also didn't get to write. I was a little busy today as well, but I still managed to get some time to write. Here's your new chapter. Some good ol' bonding time. Consider it a belated Christmas gift.

"Still don't believe in miracles, doc?" Wheeljack asked, collapsing back onto a crate with a deep sigh, watching as Predaking's vitals slowly began to come to life.

"No," Ratchet said, not yet relaxing. "I would believe in miracles if I bring someone back from the dead, not being the one that almost kills someone and saves him again."

"It'd really take that much to convince you?" Knock Out questioned, double-checking the energon tubes connected to Predaking. "And Wheeljack, get off your aft, we still have work to do."

"Once he levels out, we need to start working on restoring the rest of his energon and filtering out the rest of his systems," Ratchet replied. "And yes, it would."

"Fine, fine, I'm up," Wheeljack stepped back toward the other doctors. "What's made you such an atheist anyway?"

"Why believe in a God I can't see?" Ratchet began. "And besides, if Primus was real and wanted me to believe in him, then he would have done something about it. The only things I believe in are skill, facts, and science. The things you can't argue against."

"He makes a logical enough point," Shockwave joined the conversation.

"So you don't believe in ol' Primus, either?" Wheeljack asked.

"Of course not," Shockwave answered. "Ratchet explained it. Do you believe in Primus?"

"Don't see why not," Wheeljack shrugged. "Nothing's happened that's made me _not_ believe in him? Besides, don't you think Unicron being here makes a pretty convincing argument?"

"Of course it does," Ratchet said. "But it proves that they are not gods. They are just Cybertronians like us. And Cybertronians like us can all get hurt and can all die. Primus might be real, but he is by no means a god."

"Second phase is ready to go," Flat Line said, completely ignoring the conversation of faith's going on.

The Decepticon medic had joined their operation after they had completed the first phase. He sounded appalled once he discovered what Predaking had been poisoned by dark energon. He was even more appalled when he found out how they were curing Predaking of his energon poisoning. He had said that they were complete idiots and had insisted upon helping to ensure that the remaining phases were performed smoothly.\

He is also quite serious about his work. He didn't like their constant chatter as they waited for Predaking to recover enough for them to finish their operation.

"Back to work, then," Knock Out sighed, stepping back to his place around the table.

"Wheeljack, get that next set of purified energon ready," Ratchet instructed. "Shockwave, prepare the full system reboot. Knock Out, make sure his vents are open as wide as they can get. We need to allow the dark energon to exit his systems. Flat Line, watch the monitors. Tell us the moment something doesn't look right and remain on standby if necessary. Phase two, starting now."

Ratchet began the transfusion, energon slowly flowing back into Predaking's systems.

"Slow and steady," Ratchet reminded.

"I know, I know," Wheeljack murmured. "I've got it under control."

"Energon levels increasing," Flat Line remarked. "Prepare to clear his systems."

"Preparing," Shockwave said.

"Knock Out?" Ratchet asked.

"Looking good here," Knock Out nodded. "Proceed."

"Stand by," Shockwave put a digit to reboot drive. He waited a moment, ensuring everyone was prepared, then he tapped against it, activating it.

A low buzzing sounded, then it switched to a blowing noise, similar to Earth's wind. Puffs of air exited from Predaking's vents as they threatened to close.

"Knock Out, keep those open," Ratchet ordered calmly.

"Sorry," he apologized, quickly using his digits to stop the closing vents.

"Dark energon levels are decreasing," Flat Line informed.

"How much longer until it's completely clear?" Ratchet asked.

"Just a little longer," Flat Line said. "I'll let you know when it's finished."

"Specific," Wheeljack rolled his optics, leaning against the tanks of energon no longer being used.

"Go talk with your boyfriend," Knock Out motioned his head in Dreadwing's direction. "We're busy and you're taking up space."

Wheeljack raised his hands in defense, then walked away, unsurprisingly, toward where Dreadwing was sitting.

Dreadwing made room for Wheeljack to sit next to him.

"Apparently since I'm not actually a medic, I'm only good for doing the energon transfusion," Wheeljack mumbled.

"At least you were allowed to help at all," Dreadwing said. "I am just on babysitting duty." Dreadwing pointed at the two Predacons on the verge of breaking whatever it was they were currently being entertained by.

"Surely more entertaining than trying to help someone that you think is going to die," Wheeljack placed his chin in his hands.

"So he's not looking good then, is he?" Dreadwing asked.

"He's looking fine. The dark energon is leaving his systems too."

"So... he's going to be fine?"

"He just hasn't shown signs of waking up yet. We're still waiting for the dark energon to be clear for a while before we really start worrying, but I can't help but think that he might not be waking up for a while."

"I thought all of you Autobots were supposed to be overwhelmingly optimistic."

"Ha, guess I'm not the perfect Autobot then."

"Good thing the war is over. It means that all of your Autobot standards do not need to be met."

"Good thing," Wheeljack sighed, slumping down further. "I just wish I could do more to help."

"I take it you have grown fonder of Predaking then?"

"I'm not exactly sure what it is, but my mind says that I should hate you and Predaking. You killed Seaspray and you tried to kill me. Predaking crushed Magnus's hand and hunted me halfway across Earth, and tried to kill me. But my spark... my spark just ignores it all. Tells me these crazy things about getting attached and forgiving and forgetting."

"Strange," Dreadwing agreed. "Especially since I have told myself that I wasn't going to get attached to any of you Autobots, but here I am, losing sleep over Smokescreen and finding myself inexplicably attracted to you."

"Pardon?" Wheeljack stammered, optics going wide and straightening his posture.

"It is strange," Dreadwing continued. "I had loved Skyquake. He was my brother, how could I not care deeply about him? But you? It is different with you. I do not feel the same type of attachment. It is different with Smokescreen as well. I am not as drawn to him as I am to you, but I feel a deep protectiveness over him."

Wheeljack got of his flustered shock and smirked. "So you're saying that you've managed to get yourself a crush on little ol' me?"

"I... I do not know. I am not good with feelings or... emotions. I do not know what I am feeling. I am trying to figure it all out right now."

"If you want, I can help you out because I must say, I have also found myself inexplicably attracted to you as well."

"Are you sure what those words mean?"

"Of course I do. It means that little ol' me's got a crush on big ol' you."

"Glad to hear it."

"I'm sure you are."

"I will take you up on your offer then. Once this is all over."

"Fine by me. As long as we get one good interfacing session in."

"Perhaps you are jumping the gun a bit. We would not want to rush into this, seeing as I lack experience in any form of relationship."

"Alright then. We'll take it nice and slow for you."

"Thank you."

"I'm only taking it slow for you, though, I hope you know."

"I really do appreciate it."

"I know. And I'm glad that you decided to stick around."

Dreadwing smiled. "I know."


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about another late chapter, but all of my siblings don't get to come home often, so I want to spend as much time as I can with them before they leave for another year. But look at the bright side, you do get it earlier in the day than most of the times I update.

A field of long fallen beasts that lay scattered for miles. The bones of the many where only a few remain. It is a solemn place. A tomb.

A tomb that Unicron planned on desecrating. Fallen beasts that he planned on reviving and leading to the center of Cybertron to destroy it. Being destroyed because Unicron had a stupid grudge against Primus.

Did he really have to push his revenge onto the lives of every other Cybertronian because he hated Primus?

“It really is a shame killing Prims will require me to destroy such a beautiful planet,” Unicron lamented. “Fortunate that I never got attached to this pretty pile of metal. Destroying it will not lead me to feel too much remorse.”

_What about me?_

“Not to worry Smokescreen, dear, you will be spared thanks to the abilities my blood has provided you with.”

_How?_

“Technically, you are already dead, so you have nothing to worry about.”

_What?_

“One of the many perks of dark energon. I have shared my blood with you and because of it, you no longer going to join with the All Spark when you die. You will come back to me. And of course, you will once again become mine.”

_But that doesn’t explain why I’m already dead._

“Because I killed you.”

_No. You didn’t. I’m not dead. I am right here, and I am alive._

“Of course. My mistake. It would seem that I have forgotten to replace your memory of me killing you. A simple error, really.”

_But that… that doesn’t make sense. I’m right here. I’m thinking, I’m seeing, I’m breathing. How can I be dead when I am very much alive?”_

“I did say you are ‘technically’ dead, did I not?”

_It still doesn’t make sense,_

“It does not have to make sense. You live, yet you are dead. My blood has killed you, but it has granted you life. You think, but I control you.”

_That makes even less sense. Thanks._

“Anything for you, dear Smokescreen.”

Unicron walked into the sea of Predacon bones, observing the mass of creatures that is to aid in the destruction of Primus.

Unicron- the Lord of the Un-Dead, the Chaos Bringer, the Creator of Evil- is powerful. Powerful enough to bring the fallen back to life. Powerful enough to create weapons out of nothing. Powerful enough to pollute and take control of minds.

Did he really need an army to fight a couple of Autobots?

While Smokescreen had never met the Autobots personally, Unicron had told the tales of their many mistakes and massacres. He told of the city Nyon, destroyed because an Autobot convinced everyone that death was better than what was to come. He went on about their vast expanse of prisons and how they made a planet inhabited by fragile flesh creatures their temporary war base. He talked of the poverty and ruin that the Autobots had blatantly turned away from.

They didn’t care about change. They didn’t care about what didn’t affect themselves. They were selfish and stubborn and now they are reduced to nothing but a team of barely competent soldiers.

The Decepticons were trying to save Cybertron. They were freedom fighters fighting for change. They were outcast and punished for merely wanting the right thing.

The Autobots caused destruction, so they will get it in return. They killed many, so they will be killed in return. This is their punishment. This is their fate.

They deserve this.

"Perfect," Unicron remarked.

Then a thick, purple smog began to filter out of Unicron's plating. It flowed from Predacon to Predacon, lighting all of them with ominous purple light. It lifted them up, piecing them back together with misshapen bones, crushed skulls, and torn wings. It spread across the vast expanse of corpses, leaving a terrible rattling and roaring as each Predacon rose again.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

Smokescreen wouldn't call them particularly _beautiful,_ but they were certainly mesmerizing. The way they were held together with nothing but purple smoke. The way the smoke rose of their bones in billows. The way they stared blankly at Unicron, awaiting their orders from their savior.

Was this saving?

Perhaps they had already been saved from something worse than death. Or perhaps their death was the result of something worse than death. Were they happy when they died? Or were they seething with revenge for whatever or whoever had killed them? In that case, Unicron was their savior. He was giving them a second chance at life. A second chance at retribution.

One of the beasts, the biggest of them, approached Unicron in a slow, staggered manner. It bowed its head, then lowered itself for Unicron.

Unicron circled it, running his sharp digits lightly against the un-dead Predacon's bones. Once he seemed satisfied with the creature, he made his way onto its back.

The Predacon rose, showing off its display of broken bones as it spread its wings. It gave off a roar, shaking its bones and releasing a puff of purple smoke as it did.

Then another Predacon stepped forward. It did not hold the same size as the one Unicron rode, but it was still a large beast. It stopped in front of Smokescreen, doing the same that Unicron's had done.

Smokescreen stared at it, unsure of what to do.

"The beast is for you, Smokescreen. Get on it."

Smokescreen carefully stepped forward, watching the Predacon remain almost completely motionless.

"It will not hurt you. There is nothing to fear."

Smokescreen gently put a hand on the back of the beast, feeling a strange sort of heat terminating from the cold bones. Perhaps the heat was Unicron's power in them. He used the Predacon's bones as leverage and hoisted himself onto the back of it.

The beast moved without warning and Smokescreen found himself scrambling to grab hold of its neck before he was jostled off.

"There we are," Unicron smiled at Smokescreen. "Victory is now within reach. We will destroy the Autobots and then we will destroy Primus. You will be at my side through this all."

_Of course._

"My army," Unicron turned to the Predacons gathered behind him. "Take flight. Our target..." He paused and looked forward again.

"... the heart of Cybertron."


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually got the time to write today

"So, now we just wait for him to wake up?" Darksteel asked excitedly. "How long is that going to take?"

"I understand that you wish to meet another of your kind, but you must be patient," Shockwave chided. "It is not likely that he would awake so soon after such an extreme medical procedure."

"Actually, I wouldn't be so sure of that," Flat Line pointed at one of the several screens currently displaying Predaking's vitals and systems. "His processor has started showing signs of activity. I believe it won't be too much longer before he starts coming to his other senses as well."

"Predacons recover faster than the rest of us then?" Dreadwing asked.

"That's what I've found," Knock Out said. "Being a Predacon myself has really increased my understanding of them. My self-repair works much quicker than it did before, even as a medic."

"But to already be waking up?" Ratchet questioned. "Doesn't that sound a little unlikely? Even for a Predacon?"

"Not really," Wheeljack answered. "Not even for a Predacon. Do you remember when I said I'd done this before? Well, the patient in that case woke up _during_ the operation. It doesn't sound farfetched for ol' Preds to be waking up now."

"Wait, _during?"_ Ratchet sounded completely appalled.

"That is what I said, right?"

_**"During."** _

"I already said yes."

"He woke up and you kept operating?"

"Didn't really have much of another choice. They were dying. We didn't have time to put them back into stasis. Besides, they were too weak to be forced into stasis. If we risked it, they wouldn't have woken up after the operation. He ended up passing out soon after anyway."

"Please tell me where-" Ratchet sighed and rested his hand on the front of his helm, just barely covering his optics. "-Where on Cybertron did you get your medical license? Wait, better questions: Did you even get a medical license?"

"Yes, I did," Wheeljack frowned slightly. "So what my methods aren't the same as yours. I do things my way and my way works. If you were in that situation, would you have risked putting them back into stasis?"

"I wouldn't have even performed such a risky operation," Ratchet answered, offended like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Even I know when to give up sometimes."

"Never thought I'd hear that coming from you," Knock Out scoffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ratched asked. "Surprised that I'm not always optimistic like everyone thinks I am?"

"No, it's just that- if I were you, I would have given up on myself when I was bleeding out on the floor of the _Nemesis_ with a massive hole through the middle of my chassis."

"Just because I know when to give up doesn't mean that I _actually_ give up."

"Now I'm just getting mixed messages here," Wheeljack's optics narrowed in confusion and he raised his hands as if they were the ones that were talking. "Do you give up or not?"

"I'm saying in the instance you are talking about, I would have given up because I would have known there was nothing I could do for them," Ratchet explained. "I would have given up because I would have never even thought about draining their energon then restoring it. I didn't give up on Knock Out because there was something I could do. I could try."

"So that's what you mean," Knock Out muttered in understanding. "You give up when you don't know what to do. Wouldn't think you were like that, seeing as your CMO and always lead operations, no matter how simple or difficult they are."

"No, that's not what I mean," Ratchet countered. "If I don't know what to do, I figure it out. When I _can't_ do anything, that is when I give up."

"That does seem a lot more like you," Wheeljack agreed.

"Well, now that we have Predaking taken care of, we should return to the _Nemesis_ and continue to plan against Unicron," Dreadwing suggested. "This was a necessary action, but now we can move on to the more important issues."

"I must agree with Dreadwing," Shockwave said.

"I thought you weren't helping us against Unicron," Wheeljack commented.

"I decided that I did not want to die just yet," Shockwave reasoned. "If I am to remain with you and your team, for the time being, I will have the greatest chance of survival. It was a perfectly logical decision, really."

Wheeljack rolled his optics. "I should have known you didn't actually want to help us. You're just doing this for your own good."

"Are you saying that you would not ally yourself with Decepticons against a greater enemy if your life depended on it?"

"Of course I wouldn't. I'm a Wrecker. I go in guns blazing and if I don't come back out? Damn shame."

"Right. I forgot that you were such a... singularity."

"And here I was thinking that I had made such an impression on you that you would never forget that about me."

"What you left was far from an impression. It was a mess that you never returned to and I was forced to clean up."

" _That's_ what you're upset about? I've done a lot worse than leave a mess. I do that everywhere. Just ask Ratchet."

"You left the mess on _my_ side of the lab. I could not care less if it was left on your own side, but it was on my side. You know the lab sharing rules. You should have never been near my side anyway."

"Are we really having this argument?"

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not," Ratchet interjected. "Drop it."

Wheeljack raised his arms in defense. "Consider it dropped."

"Good," Ratchet said. "Let's go."

"Darksteel, Skylynx, prepare to transport Predaking back to the _Nemesis_ ," Shockwave instructed.

"Is there any possible way you can move your ground bridge into the lab?" Flat Line asked Ratchet. "It would be best to move Predaking with his life support. Disconnecting him while he is yet to come out of stasis is dangerous, not to mention that we need to take along all of the monitors."

"I could if you can take down the shielding of the lab," Ratchet replied.

"Not possible," Shockwave stared blankly at Ratchet.

"Then we risk taking Predaking without the medical equipment or we wait until he has recovered," Ratchet stared back.

"Then we wait," Shockwave turned, walking away to a crate, sitting down.

"We don't have the time to wait," Knock Out argued. "While we're sitting here and waiting, Unicron is planning on how he is going to destroy all of us, then Cybertron. He's planning on how he's going to torture Smokescreen next. He's planning while we do nothing."

"Hear, hear," Wheeljack stood up and walked next to Knock Out. "Predaking's important to stopping Unicron, I know, but just because he hasn't decided to wake up yet doesn't mean we have to sit and do nothing. We need to do some planning of our own to counter Unicron."

"We can not afford to do nothing," Dreadwing joined in. "Our lives cost far too much for that."

"Then look for your spare change somewhere else," Shockwave responded. "If you are so eager on departing without Predaking, then get out." Shockwave pointed at the exit. "Do not bother closing the door as you go."

"You don't even a-"

"Fine, we'll go," Knock Out said before Wheeljack could start another pointless argument. "But if Predaking wakes up and Cybertron's already destroyed-"

"At that point, it will be too late for you to say 'I told you so,'" Shockwave interrupted. "Go."

Knock Out and Wheeljack were happy to leave. They could only handle so much of Shockwave and his logic and patience. Dreadwing lingered a moment longer, glancing between the remaining parties.

Two Predacons, Shockwave, Flat Line, and Ratchet.

Didn't he come here as extra security in the first place? What good would he do if he left Ratchet all alone where he was quite susceptible to attack?

Ratchet could fight if he had to. He also vividly remembers the story told to him about the one time Ratchet used the unfinished Synthetic energon formula on himself and revealed his true fighting abilities. Ratchet could fight, but he would most certainly not wing against two Predacons, Shockwave, and Flat Line. Not to mention Star Scream was likely lingering around the lab somewhere, just waiting for his moment to make some grandiose appearance and claim that he's saved the day and that everyone should now bow to him and worship him as the glorious leader of Cybertron.

It didn't sound too farfetched, honestly.

"Ratchet, will you be alright down here on your own?" Dreadwing asked.

"I'll be fine," Ratchet assured him. "Thanks for the concern. Just go make sure Wheeljack and Knock Out don't do something completely reckless that will get themselves killed before I get back with Predaking."

Dreadwing dipped his helm in a nod, then left the lab to catch up with Wheeljack and Knock Out to enact the orders Ratchet had given him.

"Sorry about them," Ratchet apologized with a sigh. "If you couldn't tell by now, they aren't extremely patient and they already have so much on their processors."

"I can imagine," Flat Line muttered.

"I've already had a few visits from them in the medical bay because they don't know how to take care of themselves while they are worried about someone else," Ratchet continued. "How hard is it to get a decent amount of recharge? They're idiots."

"Are we sure we will even be able to do _anything_ against Unicron with them performing so poorly at the current moment?" Shockwave asked. "It seems illogical that they would even try to face Unicron like they are now."

"Their judgment is being clouded by hate and concern," Ratchet said. "With Dreadwing with them, I know that they'll at least make half-sensible decisions."

"You could go with them, you know," Flat Line offered.

"And leave my patient alone? No offense, I'm sure you are a perfectly capable doctor, but I like to keep my own optic on patients recovering from critical condition."

"No offense taken," Flat Line waved his hand. "Your reasoning is perfectly sound. I would do the same in your situation."

There was a small buzz within Ratchet's audial receptors. A transmission from Bumblebee. Had Wheeljack and Knock Out already started causing problems? They had been two seconds. How troublesome could those two be without a babysitter?

"Pardon me for a moment," Ratchet said, then he accepted the transmission and turned around for a moment. "Bumblebee? Please tell me Wheeljack hasn't destroyed something or Knock Out hasn't killed someone."

**"Ah... no. Neither of those."**

Hearing Bumblebee's real voice was still such a strange experience. It was so familiar but so strange at the same time.

"That's a relief," Ratchet felt a little bit of stress and worry leave him. "What's the problem then? I'm still dealing with Predaking, so I can't deal with any issues on the _Nemesis_ at the moment."

**"Well... I might be just reading the scanner on the ship wrong... but it says... well, it says that there is a mass of life forms that have suddenly appeared on the other side of the planet."**

"That shouldn't be right." The stress and worry were back in an instant.

**"That's what I thought too. But... the life forms are all moving and the scanner says that they're not actually, well, 'life' forms."**

"What?"

**"The life forms aren't actually living."**

"How is that even possible? The scanner must have been damaged and we didn't notice. I'll come check it out once I return."

**"I don't think it's a malfunction Ratchet. I showed it to Arcee and Bulkhead. Even Wheeljack and Knock Out looked at once they got back. Dreadwing too. They all said it was either a scanning error, or something big and bad is going on."**

Ratchet wasn't sure how to respond. Error or not, it was extremely concerning. Life forms that aren't alive. Not to mention thousands of them, from the sound of it. What was going on out there?

**"Ratchet, I think there may be an army of the un-dead heading straight toward the Well of the All Spark."**


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My family leaves on Sunday, so I should be able to start updating every other day again. I can't wait for all of you to read what's coming.

"Don't let him die while I'm dealing whatever army of undead is trying to apparently destroy Cybertron," Ratchet said after Bumblebee's line went silent for far too long.

"Not to fear doctor," Flat Line assured him. "I also happen to be a great doctor, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving."

"Do tell us how it goes," Shockwave said as Ratchet walked out. "The living dead sounds most intriguing."

"Sure, whatever," Ratchet waved a hand on his way out. "Don't wait up."

Shockwave shook his head at Ratchet's antics.

The old medic was unusually chipper for just being told that Cybertron was about to be destroyed by an unknown force consisting of the living dead. Perhaps it was because they had just succeeded in such an incredibly difficult operation on a patient poisoned by dark energon and at a very high risk of being mind-controlled by a god that was thought to be long dead millions of years ago.

That would most definitely be able to pick up somebody's mood. Even if that somebody is old Ratchet who's never been amused a day in his long life.

Ratchet left without another word, hoping that neither Wheeljack, Knock Out, or Dreadwing had the sense to close the ground bridge behind them in their haste to return to the _Nemesis_ and find some way to save Smokescreen.

 **"Ratchet, are you coming or not?"** Bumblebee sounded unbelievably desperate at this point.

Had something else gone horribly wrong in the three seconds it Ratchet to walk out of Shockwave's dingy lab?

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ratchet absently waved his servos as if Bumblebee could see them. "Open up the bridge for me and I'll be right there."

**"Right, sorry. I forgot you needed that. I've been focused on other things.**

"What happened?"

**"There's too many of them, Ratchet. We can't do this. We need Optimus. We need more help."**

"They haven't attacked anything yet, right?"

**"No, but they are definitely going to the All Spark. The bridge is opening, by the way."**

At Ratchet's side, the bridge opened.

"I'll be there momentarily," Ratchet cut the commlink and walked through the bridge.

It didn't feel right this time.

Ratchet had gone through thousands of ground bridges before, but none of them made him feel like he was walking to his death. Not even the bridge he took with Shockwave and two hostile Predacons at his side made him feel like this. The good mood he had been in moments ago had been severely dampened by the overwhelming feelings of anxiety that was now flooding his systems.

The bridge was crowded and everyone was deep in conversation when he arrived. They almost didn't notice him at first. Not until he demanded to see the scanner and ordered a transmission to Optimus be sent about their situation immediately.

"Already done," Bumblebee replied. "And Dreadwing's monitoring the scanner right now. He'll let us know if they get too close to the Well."

"I still want to see it," Ratchet requested.

"Army of the undead, sounds fake, right?" Wheeljack approached Ratchet.

He seemed less dead-set on saving Smokescreen. Perhaps he had gotten some time to clear his head and realized that this was a bit of a more pressing matter than doing something near impossible.

"It's real," Wheeljack continued. "I looked for myself. It's not a malfunction or anything of that source. I think... this might be the end of us."

"Who's the pessimist now?" Knock Out asked with an amused huff. "Have a little faith in yourself."

"Shut up, there are thousands of them," Wheeljack argued. "We don't even know what they are or who they are. Not to mention we still have to rescue Smokescreen and worry about Predaking and Optimus is gone and Magnus is out of commission and I still haven't had a good night's rest in a week because I can't stop having the same stupid dream about Smokescreen dying and coming back to life only to kill us all. But of course, sorry, that's just me being pessimistic. My bad."

"So that's why you passed out earlier?" Bulkhead asked, concerned about the wellbeing of his friend. "You haven't been recharging?"

"Not exactly," Wheeljack shrugged. "I passed out because I imagined Dreadwing fragging me over a table and I overheated."

That caused vastly mixed reactions from everyone. Knock Out and Ratchet had rolled their optics. It wasn't the first time they had dealt with something like this. Arcee also seemed unamused by it. Femme's were uncommon. She had spent a decent amount of her life surrounded by mechs with no shame. Bumblebee had gone stiff. He's probably never been in this sort of situation before and was undoubtfully innocent when it comes to this area. Bulkhead seemed overjoyed about this news. His Wheeljack was all grown up and dreaming about 'facing a big bad ex-Decepticon. Dreadwing sputtered and his legs almost gave out. He even ended up using the monitor in front of him as support to keep himself from falling over in shock.

"P-pardon?" Dreadwing stammered as he tried to compose himself and find the will to actually look Wheeljack in the optic after the confession the scientist had made.

"You want me to say it again?" Wheeljack really was shameless when it came to his feelings.

"No- that is- it is just fine. I heard you. Just- well- a little confused- is all."

"Did I not make it clear enough with the flirting? I tried, but I couldn't do anything about how dense and prudish you are."

"Congrats," Arcee sounded far from sincere. "You two can make out later. Can we go back to the undead army heading toward the Well of the All Spark that is most likely Unicron finally going through with his plan to kill Primus?"

"I like Arcee's idea," Bumblebee agreed quickly, happy for a change of subject, no matter how grim that new subject might be. "Unicron first."

"Are we sure this is Unicron?" Ratchet asked.

"You heard of anyone else that can bring the dead back to life and manipulate them?" Arcee questioned. "Neither have I. It's Unicron. I know that for sure."

"And where Unicron is, Smokescreen is," Knock Out added.

There was an attentive silence. Everyone was waiting for someone else to say the next word because they were too afraid to say it themselves.

"Move the _Nemesis_ in front of the Well," Ratchet could clearly only handle so much quiet. "Protecting Cybertron is our top priority right now. We can save Smokescreen along the way, but if the All Spark is destroyed, it would all pointless anyway."

Dreadwing stepped away from the scanner, which hadn't stopped beeping every so often for the past few minutes, to steer the ship, seeing as he was the only one former Decepticon, other than Knock Out, meaning that he was the only one, other than Knock Out, that would have any idea how to actually fly the ship. Wheeljack tried to figure it out once. A simple answer is to just say that everything has shifted two feet to the left since then.

The longer answer was that Wheeljack took the wheel and almost crashed the _Nemesis_ directly into the surface and everyone is permanently traumatized because they had all gone barelling into walls without so much as a warning other than the sudden creaking and a quick alarm, then it all went down hill. Literally. They didn't leave Wheeljack alone in the bridge after that.

"We will be arriving shortly," Dreadwing informed Ratchet softly. "Before Unicron's army does, I might add. But we need to prepare for him."

"We'll need weapons," Arcee pointed out. "Magnus still have his stash?"

"Hell yeah he does," Wheeljack was already marching halfway out of the bridge. "Follow me. I've been hacking into his supply for a while now. I'll share the access code if you guys want."

"You have the access code to Magnus' weaponry?" Bulkhead asked in complete shock, quickly going to follow Wheeljack.

"Of course I do," Wheeljack said like it was the least impressive feat he's ever performed. "You don't?"

"No! I wouldn't ever dream of that!"

"Clearly you aren't dreaming long enough," Wheeljack laughed. "You coming or not?"

"Of course I'm coming!" Bulkhead cheered. "Come on guys! Let's go raid the stash!"

Bumblebee and Arcee were quick to follow them out, leaving just the medics and Dreadwing on the bridge.

It was too quiet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would any of you like to hear some poetry?


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who’s ready for some aaaannngssttt? Don't worry. Soon.

It was dark and grim and reminded Knock Out of every single one of his deepest fears. The fears that he had hidden because he was trying to be optimistic and not think about permanent injury or death.

Especially Smokescreen’s.

The darkness made it hard to see. Cybertron’s bustling nightlife was nonexistent now. There were no illegal races in back alleys or parking lots. No bars, no clubs, no round the clock businesses open to light up the streets. He couldn’t see the thousands of undead creatures that were going to be arriving at Primus’ doorstep at any moment now.

There was darkness and silence.

The darkness that makes everyone just _know_ that something undeniably terrible was underway.

The silence weighs so heavily on everyone and everything that it becomes the loudest sound in the universe.

Darkness and silence and fear.

Just a few of Knock Out’s least favorite things.

They ended up dropping Ratchet and Ultra Magnus off near a once-thriving medical facility to ensure that both their CMO and lieutenant would be safe from all harm.

They didn’t tell Ratchet they were trying to protect him when they advised him to get off the ship. If they had, Ratchet would have thrown a fit and demanded that he remain with them in order to deal with any on-field injuries.

Ratchet had ended up voicing his qualms regardless, but he addressed them in a much quieter and calmer manner.

Knock Out was able to easily soothe Ratchet’s concerns by assuring him that if anything happened, they would let Ratchet know. The fact that Knock Out was also a skilled medic that Ratchet trusted the judgment of also seemed to help in persuading the old doctor.

Optimus had answered their transmission and informed them that he was currently in transit and would return as quickly as he could.

Everyone was relieved to hear from their glorious leader and just the sound of Optimus’s voice lifted the morale of the entire team. It gave them the boost they needed. It gave them hope and the strength they needed.

Optimus arriving in person would have provided even greater results, along with the leadership they desperately needed in a time like this, but hearing him was better than nothing at all.

And now that Ratchet and Magnus were safe away from the line of fire and Optimus and ended the transmission in order to focus his attention on flying his ship, the _Nemesis_ , despite how loud the Autobots tended to be, was absolutely silent.

Not an engine hummed nor did a plate shift out of place. No metallic clangs. No screeching clunks.

Complete and utter silence.

Knock Out would have loved it if he wasn’t about to fight Unicron, an army of undead creatures, and very likely, Smokescreen.

How they were going to fight Unicron- the equivalent of a god- Knock Out didn’t know. How they were going to defeat Unicron’s army- an undead one that, like their name suggests, can’t die- Knock Out didn’t know. How they were going to even lay a finger on Smokescreen- their beloved friend that had dealt with more than anyone his age should have to and is being forced to do this against his will- Knock Out didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything. He had no plan. No strategy. Nothing but his desire to put a stop to Unicron and save Smokescreen at all costs.

_No matter the costs._

Right now they were leaderless and powerless. They had nothing that could possibly tip the scales. Not against a supposed god and an army that is already dead.

Where had Unicron even amassed such a large force?

The pits of Koan, where massacre after massacre stained the streets, perhaps. Maybe the mines, where hundreds upon hundreds of accidents and ‘accidents’ took place. Cybertron itself was just one massive, a communal grave for millions of innocent lives, as well as millions of guilty ones. It’s not a surprise Unicron was able to find enough corpses to make an army.

But… there was _one_ place Knock Out suspected.

A place where there were no ruins to search through. No mines to dig through. A burial ground where nothing was _entirely_ buried.

“Where’d you think he got enough corpses to make an army in the first place?” Wheeljack asked, watching as the scanner showed more and more dots steadily get closer to their current position.

“He could have dug anywhere and picked up a couple of hundred bodies,” Arcee pointed out.

“He could have,” Knock Out agreed. “But I get a feeling that he didn’t just go and dig up some bodies.”

“What makes you say that?” Wheeljack questioned.

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Knock Out admitted. “Something just tells me that this army he has… he found them at the Predacon tomb.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The Predacon tomb. It’s just like it sounds. A burial ground for the Predacons. It is where Predaking and I remained while he taught me control. It had thousands of Predacon bones. He got his army there. I know it. I _feel_ it.”

“Well, that’s just dandy, ain’t it?” Wheeljack retorted. “An army of undead Predacons and we don’t even have Predaking.”

“We can’t even _fight_ Predaking,” Bumblebee reasoned. “How are we going to fight an _army_ of him?”

“We aim for their leader,” Dreadwing answered from the helm. “We kill Unicron and we will cut off their source of power. It will put them right back into their grave.”

“And how do you suggest we kill Unicron?” Wheeljack asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head with a frown.

“Not to mention we still have to worry about Smokescreen,” Knock Out added.

“I do not believe we will have to worry about him,” Dreadwing said. “Seeing as all of the masses detected are nonliving, I do not believe we will have to deal with Smokescreen this time around.”

“That’s a relief, at least,” Bulkhead sighed.

“Unless we’re too late,” Wheeljack mentioned grimly.

“Let’s hope we’re not,” Bumblebee stepped forward. “Maybe he’s still on Dark Mount. Dreadwing, can we scan for life forms of Dark Mount?”

“We would need to get closer, and Dark Mount is heavily shielded,” Dreadwing replied. “We would have to go inside the fortress to know for sure. Or we wait until Unicron shows up and we can see for ourselves.”

“But if Smokescreen _is_ there…” Bumblebee trailed off.

“It means that he’s already dead and just being controlled by Unicron,” Knock Out answered flatly.

“Yeah… that…” Bumblebee muttered, but he forced himself to perk back up. “But from what we’ve seen, I think it’s safe to assume that Unicron wants Smokescreen alive.”

“For now,” Wheeljack mumbled.

“Which is why I’m going to say it again. Let’s hope that we’re not too late. Let’s hope that Smokescreen is still alive and that we can _still_ help him.”

He paused, making sure that he had everyone’s attention, then he stepped forward again, pointing at the visual field they had on the Well.

“So let’s all get out there and defeat Unicron so that we can save our planet and our friend,” he continued. “Unicron may have an army of undead Predacons. But us? We're _living_. That means we have more than them. We have faith and trust. We have determination and desire. We have our will and we have each other. But most importantly, we have a _spark._ He doesn't. Nothing can change that.”

The silence this time around wasn’t solemn or grim. It was powerful but not loud or overbearing. It was confidence. It was strength. It was the straightening of spinal struts and an oath to fight like their lives depend on it.

_Because they do._

“You heard the mech,” Wheeljack raised the large gun he had taken from Magnus into the air. “We got sparks! You know what that means? It means we’re alive. Let’s all go out and keep it that way."

"I like the sound of that," Bulkhead cheered.

"Wahoo!" Wheeljack exclaimed. "Who's with me?"

Dreadwing strode forward with a half smirk and walked past Wheeljack close enough to just barely brush arms. "Wahoo," he stated, words monotone, as always, but enthusiasm hinted in the way he had tapped his knuckles against Wheeljack's elbow.

Wheeljack returned the gesture by running up behind Dreadwing and poking between the former Decepticon's wings before he saluted to the others and marched into the hall.

The remaining Autobots in the room watched in amusement as Dreadwing's lip plates pulled upward and his wings flicked back and forth once before he too made his way to the hall.

"Well, let's get going before those two have all the fun," Arcee smiled at the interaction she watched take place.

Knock Out said nothing, but allowed his pedes to pull him forward. The others followed him solemnly off the _Nemesis_ to take their place alongside Dreadwing and Wheeljack in front of the Well of the All Spark.

An army appeared over the horizon. Some flying, some walking with stuttered half steps. An army of broken Predacons with mismatched bones and glaring purple optics. Two Predacons led the rest. Two larger ones with bigger wings and sharper teeth and pointer horns.

Two Predacons with two figures on their backs.

_Two._

**_Two._ **

Knock Out’s frame melted and his spark sunk. He couldn’t find his strength anymore. His determination was depleted. The desire he once had to fight and win had crumbled. His faith and will and trust were gone.

Two...

That meant... that meant...

Unicron and... and...

No. _No._

Please. It couldn’t be true.

There were no life forms detected. There were no living, beating, pulsing sparks out there. Nothing standing before them was alive.

The scanner had to be wrong. It had to be.

Otherwise... it meant that... that...

”No...”

Knock Out’s servos had fallen limp at his side and began to shake uncontrollably. He felt his joints creak and lock up. He fell to his knees and a choked sound fought its way out of his voice box and up through his throat only for it to force its way between his denta.

Bumblebee was quick to place a hand on Knock Out’s shoulder in concern. “Hey, hey, hey, Knock Out? What’s wrong? We can’t deal with this right now. We need you.”

”He’s here...” Knock Out strangled out. “He... Bumblebee, he’s here.”

”I know. _We_ know. We can see his army. But we need you to stand up and help us fight. We can’t defeat Unicron on our own.”

”Not Unicron, damn it!” Knock Out pounded his fist against the ground, holding back the aggressive tears that he could feel building up in the overflow run outs near his optics. “Smokescreen... It’s Smokescreen. He’s here... He’s here... Smokescreen’s here. That means... It means... he... he's...”

_He’s dead._


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longer chapter before the fight fully kicks in and shit starts to go down and people start dying- I mean/ whhhaaaaatttt?? Nooooooo... Everyone’s going to be juuuuussstt fiiiiinnnneee... ha. Haha. Haha ha. *awkward laughter continues and slowly dies out*

_It all happened so fast._

That’s what everyone says in these kinds of situations. They say that the moment it started, it felt like it was already done. They blinked and it was done. By the time their processor had caught up, everything was already over. That’s what they all say. They couldn’t do anything because it happened so quickly.

They all went into shock and their mind cut out on them. That’s what actually happened. They went through something so horrifying and traumatic that their mind forced them to only see fragments of what actually happened.

Not everyone works that way. Smokescreen sure doesn’t.

He remembers every second and every detail of Megatron’s torture. He remembers every moment of fear and every minute of despair.

Knock Out didn’t work like that either. He was too smart and too aware and too observant for that to work.

_It just… happened so fast._

That’s what Knock Out would like to say. He’d like to say that he fell to his knees, shut his optics and it was over by the time he opened them again.

He opened his optics and found that Unicron was dead and Smokescreen was safe. The army was gone and everyone was okay. Optimus had arrived and Predaking woke up. Shockwave and Flat Line joined them. Starscream got thrown in prison. The All Spark was returned to life and Cybertron began to repopulate. Wheeljack and Dreadwing were now happy as conjux, living their best life. Ratchet went to Earth and Knock Out became CMO of Cybertron after he was able to prove he wasn’t going to lose his mind and attack anyone again. Smokescreen was getting the help he needed and was happy again.

It was good. It was _perfect._

_If only he could say that._

If only he could say that ‘it all just happened so fast.’ It would be so much easier.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t say it because it wasn’t true.

It didn’t happen ‘too fast.’ It didn’t happen like the perfect dream that had the perfect ending.

It happened unbelievably slow. It built up suspense and every second dug deeper and deeper into Knock Out’s plating enough to make him want to cry and sob and scream because _that was Smokescreen._

Smokescreen was here which meant that Smokescreen was dead.

The realization of that was the only thing that happened too fast. It happened in an instant.

Knock Out saw familiar the blue and gold frame of Smokescreen mounted upon the large Predacon it it burst through him so fast that it took him to his knees because _Smokescreen was dead._

But everything else was painfully slow.

The slow approach of the undead army. The slow rise Knock Out made to his pedes after being successfully and endlessly coaxed by Bumblebee. The slow, donning sensation that this could be the end. The way time seemed to be going slower around them all as they shared glances and let their fears and worries go.

Knock Out wished it could all move quicker than his processor could keep track of. He wished so, _so_ desperately that it could all just happen too fast.

“We’ll figure it out,” Bumblebee had tried to reassure Knock Out. “We take down Unicron and we can figure the rest out. We’ll figure out how to save Smokescreen. We’ll figure out how to save him. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it all out.”

It did help, at first. Then Knock Out dug deeper into his thoughts and realized that they couldn’t win without sacrificing someone or something.

And it was going to be undisputed that Smokescreen was going to be that sacrifice.

He was already dead and under Unicron’s complete control. There was going to be no ‘saving’ or ‘figuring out’ because there is _no one_ to save and _nothing_ to figure out. They couldn’t do anything.

_Because Smokescreen was already lost._

Knock Out felt his control slipping with the rush of emotions seeping into his seams. The grim mortality of all living beings.

Everything lives. Everything dies.

There was no time to grieve. No time to mourn. No time to fall to the ground and scream at Primus and curse him for taking away someone so young so soon. No time to beg for this to just be some horrible dream created by Unicron to torment them all as he is destroying their home. There was no more time.

Knock Out could only suck it up and move on now because this wasn’t a dream and if he didn’t get his act together, they were going to stand even less of a chance than they already do.

Bumblebee was right. They needed Knock Out to get a grip. They needed him in control right now.

So he sucked it up and moved on.

He’s lived his entire life this far without Smokescreen and he can live the rest of it without Smokescreen as well.

It will hurt. It will hurt more than he can imagine right now. But he’ll get over it. He’ll move on. He got over Breakdown. He can get over Smokescreen. Granted, Smokescreen is a more devastating loss because he was able to get revenge for Breakdown.

The only people Knock Out could blame for Smokescreen was Megatron, who is already dead, Unicron, who is technically impossible to kill, and himself, and he can’t very well seek revenge against himself either.

He’s already gone through enough self-deprecation and depression to even consider going through more because he starts trying to punish himself for something he can’t do anything about now.

He was too late then and he’s too late once again. There was nothing he could do.

No point in crying over spilled energon. Even if it’s Smokescreen’s energon spilled by Unicron’s vile hand. Or even Knock Out’s own hand.

He didn’t want to fight Smokescreen. He _couldn’t_ fight Smokescreen. He was here to take care of Smokescreen, not hurt him.

And the thought of hurting Smokescreen made Knock Out feel his control falter once again.

_No feelings._

Knock Out needed to remind himself. Emotions made him lose control. Predaking had told him that. That’s how he was able to master his control so easily. He tried to block out his emotions.

He could never block them out completely. That would be impossible unless he completely deactivated his emotional hard drive. He could do that, of course, but to not feel anything at all would be so completely foreign and unnatural. He couldn’t even fathom what that kind of life would be like.

To look at a patient without a sense of compassion or without feeling sympathy when he tried to understand. To look at Smokescreen and not physically hurt because the poor kid had gone through more than Knock Out could ever imagine.

He couldn’t be a medic without emotions because feeling emotions is what medics do. Despite how much they try to hide or deny it, doctors are some of the most empathetic and emotional people. That was true in every race Knock Out had met throughout his life. Every medic was kind and every medic cared. Well… Knock Out had met this one Cybertronian medic.

They were created without an emotional hard drive. A young fellow that called themselves ‘Crow.’ Knock Out had never actually found out their real name. Knock Out wasn’t sure if they actually _had_ a real name. He was pretty sure it was actually just a series of numbers and letters. That would explain why they chose a new one.

But they were incapable of feeling emotions. They didn’t have compassion or empathy or anything. They couldn’t even feel pain.

That had gotten them in a pinch more than once. They had their plating melted off by the Decepticons because they refused to pledge themselves to Megatron. They didn’t feel a thing and almost died because they didn’t realize how bad the damage was.

They were nothing but a protoform skeleton by the time they were rescued. Had to get themself a suit of artificial armor in order to make up for the lack of natural protection.

Knock Out’s not too sure what happened to them after that. They could have died with the other half of the planet. They could be out there somewhere.

It’s hard to say who’s dead and who’s alive these days.

But Knock Out knew that he was most certainly alive and he knew that Smokescreen was most certainly dead, no matter how hard he wished it to be a lie.

If Smokescreen was here. If he was in front of them at Unicron's side. If every single dot on the scanner of the _Nemesis_ belonged to a non-living entity.

Then Smokescreen was, without a doubt, dead.

_But how? When?_

How did he die? Painlessly and quickly by disconnecting his spark from his processor? Agonizing and torturous by slowly leaking out through brutal injuries and frayed wires? Shot through the spark? Killed by Unicron's dark energon? Dismantled and forced to watch his own body fall apart?

When did he die? Was it before or after Wheeljack, Dreadwing, and Predaking had tried to save him? Had Unicron killed him because Smokescreen no longer had a use? Had he killed him because he realized Smokescreen had contacted the Autobots? Had he killed Smokescreen to put him on a tighter leash? Had he killed Smokescreen the moment they had seen each other on that faithful day?

Or did Smokescreen take his own life that day and Unicron was the one that found him and took him in?

If that was the reality of it, Knock Out would only feel so much worse because then it _would_ be his fault. Smokescreen died because Knock Out was gone. Smokescreen died because Knock Out wasn't there to help him. Smokescreen died because Knock Out was _too late._

And that reality would be even worse than just finding out that Smokescreen had died by Unicron's hand because at least that way, Knock Out knew that he wasn't to blame. It would be even worse than dying to protect the All Spark because at least that way, Smokescreen wouldn't have to be alone.

And suddenly that reality was too much.

Knock Out's carefully calculated and monitored control was slipping between his digits like the sand found in Earth's deserts. His emotions were clawing the cage that kept his inner beast contained open. He couldn't stop himself anymore.

It was too much. Too much feeling. Too much despair. Too much of it all.

His vision began to become sharper, outlining everything in a haze layer of red. His spines raising defensively, making himself look bigger and deadlier. His pointed glossa forced its way between his rows of denta, letting out hisses and snarls as it did. His plating shifted, waiting for Knock Out to finally let go and allow himself to return to his proper form. His clawed digits tapped eagerly against each other as they itched for complete carnage to finally be unfurled. His claws on his pedes tapped against the ground, urging him closer and closer to Unicron, pleading with him to take his revenge, desperately wishing for him to save the one thing that matters above else.

"Knock Out, you better not be about to do what I think you're about to do," Bumblebee grabbed onto Knock Out's wrist tightly, trying to discourage Knock Out from acting recklessly.

Knock Out couldn't drag his gaze away from the army in front of him.

"I'll kill them," Knock Out growled, his complete lack of conscious control obvious in how deeply his voice rumbled. "I'm going to kill them all. Every last one of them.”

“And that’s exactly what I hope you’re not about to do,” Bumblebee said with a surprisingly calm demeanor, given that Knock Out sounded just about completely feral with growls that just kept growing louder and stronger.

“You can’t stop me,” Knock Out tugged his arm out of Bumblebee’s grasp. “And you won’t because you see exactly what I see. You know Smokescreen’s there. You know that means he’s dead. I’ll kill them all for it.”

“Knock Out, now is really not the time to start thinking irrationally,” Bumblebee continued to try and say Knock Out’s rage. “You can’t kill them all and you know it. We need a plan that doesn’t include blindly charging into a battle against an army of Predacons. Ones that _can’t_ die, I might add.”

“Should have told me that sooner,” Knock Out breathed out a half-laugh, half-snarl.

“So I could have convinced you to stay on the ship?”

“So you could have stopped me before I lost control.” Knock Out held out a hand in front of Bumblebee. "Now stand back before I tear out your throat."

Bumblebee was more than happy to oblige. Probably because Knock Out _would_ tear out his throat and would do it without hesitation as of the current moment.

The way Knock Out's circular pupils had shrunk down to narrow slits had told Bumblebee all he needed to know. This was just like the time aboard the _Nemesis_ where Knock Out pounced SMokescreen and tried to tear out his spark.

There was no doubt he would have done it then and he was likely close to doing it now.

"If you go out there, you'll die and I'm not going to save you," Wheeljack reasoned.

Clearly he didn't see Knock Out up close the last time he lost control. It was terrifying to stand before someone so familiar and so friendly stand stock still with energon soaked servos while they stared like they didn't know who anyone was.

And he didn't. His mind converted to pure instinct and it all went blank. He went into a blind rage the moment he killed the first Vehicon in that hallway.

_He tried to kill Smokescreen._

"If you die, you won't be able to do anything to save Smokescreen," Wheeljack took a step toward Knock Out to make an attempt at calming Knock Out down. "We need you to stay in control."

Knock Out turned to Wheeljack and released a vicious snarl. "There is no _saving Smokescreen._ He's _dead,_ Wheeljack. The fact that he's here means that he's dead." Each word was even more like a growl than the first. "We didn't save him earlier and now we're _too late_."

"Well, we're not too late to still get revenge," Wheeljack pointed out. "So if you go out there like an idiot and die, then you won't be able to get your revenge. Besides, being an idiot and dying is supposed to be my job."

"We can settle the debate of who's the bigger idiot later," Arcee stepped between them. "Those Predacons are getting closer and they're going to keep getting closer, so put on your big boy pants and sit still while we figure out something that will help us not die the moment Unicron sets foot down here."

Dreadwing stepped closer to the conversation. "Might I suggest-" He stopped, tapping against the side of his helm. "Pardon me a moment." Then he stepped away again and looked away. "What is it now?"

It was enough to momentarily distract everyone from the army as they tried to listen in on his conversation.

"Wonderful news, doctor," was the only thing Dreadwing said before he returned to the others.

"Ratchet?" Bulkhead asked.

"No," Dreadwing said, his gaze narrowing in on the army that had grown impossibly close. "But it is good news."

Knock Out narrowed his optics, then let out a happy sound. "They're here, aren't they?" Knock Out asked excitedly, looking ready to hop onto all fours and wag his tail with glee.

Dreadwing lifted his chin slightly. "That will be them right there," he replied.

A roar sounded from above the army. It was loud. Louder than any of the Predacons in Unicron's army. Bigger too, by the way it seemed to shake the air like thunder.

"Predaking sure sound's lively," Arcee smiled.

There was a dim glow from behind the clouds that steadily grew brighter, then with a break in the cloud cover, streams of fire rained from above, striking down one undead Predacon after the other, burning their bones and making them disolve into nothing but bones once again.

The army moved together, turning to the three Predacons that had dipped below the clouds to continue their bombardment.

Predaking, Darksteel, and Skylynx flew elegantly to dodge the army. It was like a dance. A beautifully orchestrated dance that they led. They looped and spun and dove. It was magnificent to watch. Their every movement seemed to happen in slow motion. Every flap of their wings, every flash of their teeth, every boil of their flames.

And at this point, Knock Out found that there was only one thing he could say to it all.

_It all happened so slow._


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now I'm kind of drawing on the prelude to this fight, but it will happen. It will.

“Who’re the other two?” Arcee asked.

“You know the ones that attacked Smokescreen and Ultra Magnus not too long ago and left him in a temporary coma?” Wheeljack replied. “Yeah… that’s them. Darksteel and Skylynx.”

“How come they’re helping us out?” Bumblebee questioned.

“Likely on Shockwave’s orders,” Dreadwing answered. “Or because they met Knock Out and wanted to help a fellow Predacon.”

“Then how come Shockwave is helping us?”

“Because he decided stepping down to help his former enemies would be better than dying at Unicron’s hand.”

Bumblebee shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m just surprised he was so willing to help.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say _willing,_ ” Wheeljack began. “Closer to mildly threatened and negotiated with until he was finally convinced enough to offer assistance to Predaking and eventually convinced enough to lend his help in fighting Unicron.”

“Shockwave was the last person I would even suspect would switch sides,” Bulkhead spoke. “When I saw him on the bridge, I thought he had taken over the ship and was holding all of you hostage at first.”

“You brought Shockwave on our ship?” Arcee asked in astonishment and anger.

“Technically it _was_ his ship,” Wheeljack pointed out.

“That’s not the point,” Arcee sounded like she was about to yell. “The point is that you brought a highly dangerous _Decepticon scientist_ aboard our ship. Do you know how stupid that is? He’s a threat to all of us. What if he had attacked someone or stolen the ship? He can’t be trusted.”

“Dreadwing was a Decepticon general. We trust him.”

“ _Was_ ,” Arcee emphasized. “And so was Knock Out and Predaking, but they joined us under different circumstances. Shockwave doesn’t _want_ to join us. He’s doing it so he doesn’t die. He still hates us and he doubtlessly wants us dead so he can achieve his own goals.”

“He also hates literally everyone else,” Wheeljack argued. “Actually, he likes his Predacons and I think he can tolerate Ratchet and Flat Line.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dreadwing cut in. “But I do think that we should put an end to this arguing. There are more important matters we should be prepared for.”

“Besides, I’m already here.”

Everyone spun around to Dreadwing’s side and stared at Shockwave as they tried to figure out how such a big mech was able to join them without anyone, except apparently Dreadwing, from noticing.

“When did you even-“

“A few moments ago,” Shockwave cut Bullhead off. “Enough to hear your argument, at least. Do not worry, nothing you said offended me and nothing you say can. I am beyond feeling emotion in such an illogical manner.”

“Good to know,” Wheeljack commented nonchalantly. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I’m coming up with insults.”

“How very thoughtful,” Shockwave replied drolly.

“Least I can do for an old friend.”

“Please,” Shockwave cringed. “Never call me that again.”

“What? Old?”

“No. _Friend_.”

Wheeljack’s lips spread into a grin then a wicked smile. “Oh?”

“That is _not_ an invitation for you to use it again. I will not hesitate to kill you?”

Wheeljack seemed to get the idea. There were some lines even he wouldn’t cross. He called Knock Out K.O. sometimes, but Knock Out also didn’t threaten to kill him. He called Ultra Magnus all sorts of things because he knew that most of Magnus’s threats were null and the only ones Magnus actually followed through with were the ones that just ended in Wheeljack getting an extra shift of midnight guard duty. Wheeljack was more than happy to offer his services if it meant that Magnus would leave him alone for a little while.

Wheeljack was yet to come up with a nickname for Dreadwing, but he would find one. ‘Dreadwing’ was too bland and a little grim. There had to be something better than just ‘Dreadwing.’

‘Dread’ or ‘Wing’ was too boring and, quite frankly, not good for a nickname. Dreadwing was a flier, so maybe a bird would be a more fitting nickname. He’d have to stop by Earth and ask Miko if she has a list or book of bluebirds. Then he could call Dreadwing a bird and he wouldn’t even know it.

It would be perfect.

But of course, there were more important things than coming up with a nickname for Dreadwing at the current moment. More important things like the Predacon army.

Darksteel, Skylynx, and Predaking were currently doing a wonderful job of keeping the army at bay, but that wasn’t going to last long before they would get too overwhelmed by the undead.

And if they got too overwhelmed, then there was no way that Knock Out alone, or the Wreckers, or Dreadwing and Shockwave would be able to do anything about it.

No matter how hard their Predacons fought, Unicron’s army was just too big. They could fight through the seams of the three defenders. Unicron was coming and there was going to be no stopping him until the last line of defense.

Even then, there was no guarantee that they would even put up a fight against Unicron.

How are they supposed to fight him? How do they kill a god?

They can’t.

They just have to figure something out before it’s too late and they’re all dead and Cybertron with them.

He’d never be able to ask Miko about birds if he dies. He’d be damned if he let that happen. He wasn’t dying until he came up with at least _one_ good nickname for Dreadwing.

“Alright everyone,” Bumblebee stepped forward and took charge, despite there being many more qualified people to do the job. “We need to hit them with everything we’ve got the moment they start to dip into the Well. Knock Out, you stay upfront. You’ll be able to do the most damage from there.”

Knock Out growled at being ordered around by the smaller mech. “I don’t need to listen to you,” Knock Out raised a claw and put it inches from Bumblebee’s optic. “Try that again and I’ll rip your optic.”

“Now, now Knock Out, is that really the best course of action?” Wheeljack asked in hopes that it would possibly dissuade Knock Out from killing anyone.

It didn’t prove to be very effective, seeing as Wheeljack was the one that was now being threatened.

“I’d be just as willing to tear out your optics as well,” Knock Out snarled. “So shut it.”

Shockwave stepped in front of Knock Out and the Predacon immediately took a more defensive stance than the aggressive one he had moments ago. "Knock Out. Stop that or I will have no choice but to contact Ratchet."

Knock Out bristled and quickly tried to scramble away from Shockwave by hiding behind the Bulkhead. He hissed fiercely and glared at Shockwave.

"What's gotten into him?" Wheeljack asked.

"Seeing as it seems his mind has reverted back to a complete state of instinct and hostility, I suspect that he now sees me as the largest threat here," Shockwave began to explain. "After his experience with me, his fears and defensive nature is completely logical. And the fact that I brought up Ratchet's name. Although, I am intrigued as to why his mind made this sudden shift after he claimed so many times that he was in total control."

"Emotions," Knock Out answered shakily. His growling had stopped and his spines had lowered slightly. His frame had relaxed and he no longer seemed to be fearful. "Strong emotions cause a fissure in my control. Things like bloodlust, anger, fear, and sadness. I try to keep them in check without fully shutting them down. I can normally keep my instincts under control just fine, but Smokescreen... It was hard for me to realize that him being here means that he is dead."

"I take it you are under control now, then?" Shockwave asked.

"You mentioned Ratchet," Knock Out pointed out. "It was enough for me to become conscious enough for me to temporarily dampen my emotion receptors."

"So we can trust you enough to run point?" Arcee questioned.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Knock Out stepped in front of them, motioning for them to step back just a bit. "And don't get in my way, otherwise you _won't_ be."

"You know what?" Wheeljack shrugged. "Sounds fair enough."

"Glad you're not a complete idiot."

Knock Out took a few steps farther away from the group before he transformed. Then he waited. He kept on waiting. He waited until Predaking couldn't keep up.

Then the army inched its way closer. Every flap of their broken wings brought them closer. Every second meant Smokescreen and Unicron were getting closer.

Then a boiling settled in Knock Out's frame. It worked it's way up, heating up his systems as it moved into his throat. It burned, but not in a bad way. So Knock Out opened his mouth.

And he let it burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the meantime, do you guys have any guesses on who it is that I'm going to kill off in the end?


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma be honest with you guys. I had time to write yesterday, but I'm stressed about my finals and couldn't find the inspiration to actually write the chapter. It's here now though, so forgive me (even though I know you won't later after I let someone die)

Shockwave was impressed by Knock Out’s display of flames. He knew most Predacons could breathe fire, but Knock Out didn’t seem like most Predacons. Knock Out was much different than the others.

The way he had come about was because of a cruel science experiment that altered his very CNA for the rest of his days. The way he seemed to have two sides. One moment he was the same as he was before, then the next, he was going about threatening to kill everyone and almost following through with it. The way he couldn’t fly but was faster and more agile than everyone.

It wasn’t like any other Predacon Shockwave had seen or heard about. That is why he had first agreed to help Predaking.

He was intrigued by Knock Out’s evolution. He was intrigued at how Knock Out managed to survive such a shift in CNA and be able to keep a state of semi-consciousness and awareness. The fact that Knock Out was able to resist the powerful change was illogical, only making Shockwave more interested in finding out just how powerful Knock Out was and how much more powerful he had grown.

But what intrigued Shockwave most was the fact that Knock Out himself seemed surprised by his own ability. The breath of fire stopped after the attacking Predacon had become ash. He licked his denta, tasting the residue of his flames as a puff of steam seeped out from between Knock Out’s plating and trailed out of his mouth. Knock Out’s optics had widened a bit and he had let out a noise of confusion before he licked his lips again.

It didn’t stop Knock Out for long. He was back to stopping undead Predacons in a second.

It was incredible. Watching a spectacular beast like Knock Out destroy his enemies in a beautiful flourish of fire.

Truly magnificent.

Then the army stopped.

Predaking, Darksteel, and Skylynx had landed next to Knock Out, worn out and heavily injured.

“They have ceased their attacks,” Predaking was quick to inform Knock Out, transforming as he did.

“They stopped?” Wheeljack asked behind them. “Why have they stopped?”

“We came back to regroup and figure that out,” Predaking replied. “I am glad to see that you are doing alright.”

“I could say the same to you,” Wheeljack smiled.

The army landed almost noiselessly in front of them, seemingly not interested in trying to kill them or destroy the Well anymore.

Shockwave’s analysis began immediately.

There were currently 24,671 undead Predacons in front of them. 1,348 are dead already, though they are not included in the 24,671. They can be killed, but they must be destroyed completely in order to not be able to come back. There are 10 of them here. Predaking, Darksteel, and Skylynx are injured. Wheeljack is still suffering from the effects of his injury and his lack of recharge. Knock Out is currently flickering in and out of control and Ratchet wasn’t here to help do anything about it.

The ones that stand the highest chance of surviving this is Knock Out, Dreadwing, and himself. That wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out though.

Although half out of control, Knock Out was currently in the best shape compared to the other Predacons and he is much stronger than the other Autobots. Dreadwing’s armor is thicker and his frame is bigger. He can fly and he knows how to fight properly. He was the only one that came away unscathed from the fight against Unicron earlier. He’s the only one, other than Arcee and Shockwave, with any sort of sense here. Shockwave himself had been conserving energy for the past million years. He only runs his necessary processes and only increases his functioning ability if he absolutely needs it. His logical analyzing and self-preservation skills were beyond those of everyone else.

Even if Cybertron was destroyed and Unicron killed all that stood in his way, Shockwave would not be killed. He knew how to fight back and if he needed it, he could hide for thousands of years. The only creatures greater than Shockwave was the Predacons because of their unbeatable strength, superior genes, and extraordinary instincts.

Not even a so-called god would stop Shockwave from living.

And it was that so-called god that made the first move by dismounting the Predacon he was riding. Then Smokescreen followed.

Shockwave hadn’t been able to formulate a proper conclusion on Smokescreen because he had seen the rookie so little, but from what he does know, he could say two things for sure.

One, Smokescreen didn’t walk like that. His posture is too straight and the way his arms barely say with each step is off. It’s too formal and too confident to be Smokescreen.

Two, Smokescreen doesn’t have purple optics. Shockwave knows for a fact that Smokescreen’s optics were a pure and innocent Autobot blue.

So, based on these blatantly obvious observations, Shockwave began to come up with a few possible conclusions and explanations for this change.

The first and most likely: Smokescreen was killed and has been taken over by Unicron. In that case, there is nothing they can do to save Smokescreen. He is already lost to them and he must be killed like the rest of Unicron's army.

The second and less likely, although possible: Smokescreen is not dead and instead, he is just under Unicron's control, although that did not seem possible, seeing as Unicron's ability is to control the _dead_ , not the living.

The third and least likely of them all: This was not the _real_ Smokescreen standing in front of them. It sounded impossible, but Shockwave knew better than anyone that cloning was not impossible. The only issue was that Shockwave was currently monitoring the only cloning facilities on Cybertron and there was almost no way that Unicron had figured out how to clone anything. Unicron was a warlord, a god, not a scientist.

But why Unicron would have his army stand down when they were clearly winning was quite an illogical strategy, making Shockwave think that maybe Unicron wasn't as good of a strategist as he was thought to be.

"I was planning on going straight for Primus and not even bothering with you puny Autobots," Unicron remarked in that tone of his that makes everyone realize how intimidating and condescending he really is. "But this is a most unexpected turn of events that I had not planned on." Unicron wrapped his thumb and index finger underneath Smokescreen's chin, holding it gently and raising it a bit.

The way the Autobots glowered at Unicron's action only made Unicron smirk widely. He was enjoying this torment on their unconditional protectiveness over their rookie.

"Although it was not a part of my scheme, I must say that stumbling upon Smokescreen was more fantastic than I could have ever hoped for."

Unicron was far too gleeful about this. It was making Knock Out snarl with ferocity and attempt to claw his way out of the grasp Predaking had managed to get on Knock Out before he could get himself killed.

"I was going to kill Smokescreen without hesitation, but then I saw how broken he was, and I have always found that broken things are the most beautiful."

"LET HIM GO!" Knock Out snarled. HE'S NOT YOURS!"

"Oh," Unicron let go of Smokescreen's chin and looked at Knock Out with intrigue. "Not mine? Is he yours then?"

Knock Out released a feral growl.

"No?" Unicron laughed. "Now, I must admit, taming him proved to be quite a difficult task. He was quite stubborn and kept on insisting that all of you would be there for him in the end. I did not even need to prove that to him. You did that yourself. He lost faith in all of you, allowing me to take advantage of his weakened and distraught state and take over his susceptible mind. I still ended up being forced to take away his voice and half of his hearing before he seemed to finally understand, but he is now under my control, so, by that reasoning, Smokescreen _is_ mine."

"SHUT UP!" Knock Out hissed, but his voice was starting to lose its edge and started falling apart. "He's not... He's not yours... You can't have him..."

"You seem so sure about that," Unicron remarked. "I want you to watch something that might just change your mind." Unicron stepped behind Smokescreen, leaning down next to Smokescreen's one good audial receptor. "Show them, will you dear?"

The response was instantaneous. Smokescreen's chassis had split and lifted without a delay, almost like Smokescreen had no sense of how sacred such an action is considered.

Almost like Smokescreen had no sense of anything at all.

But the worst part of it all was that they could see Smokescreen's spark clearly. It was bright. Brighter than anything they had ever seen before. It meant that Smokescreen was still alive. It should have been the best news they had heard in their expanse of suffering. They should have been overjoyed to know that Smokescreen was still alive.

Except Smokescreen's spark was the same disturbing purple as his optics.

Unicron had reached around Smokescreen and pointed at the spark. "You see this here?" he asked. "This right here means that Smokescreen is mine and I can do whatever I like with him and he will obey without hesitation." Unicron wrapped his digits around Smokescreen's spark, the rookie not even flinching at the touch. "Look at how bright it is. He is so pure and innocent. So young and yet to realize his potential." Unicron smiled in amusement then. "He was going to be a Prime."

Knock Out tore himself away from Predaking and leaped at Unicron without a thought.

"Poor lost spark," Unicron shook his head as Knock Out approached. "You can not seem to decide on which mind to inhabit your body." Unicron grabbed Knock Out by the throat and lifted him into the air.

Knock Out scratched at Unicron's arm, leaving deep scrapes, but Unicron didn't seem to care. He didn't seem to even notice.

"Sooner or later, it is going to become too much work trying to keep yourself under control," Unicron placed his other hand over Knock Out's helm. "Allow me to assist you in making your decision." Unicron stabbed his digits into Knock Out's plating, relishing in the way his victim cried out in pain and squirmed.

There was a satisfying click, then a snap, and Knock Out stopped fighting, optics dimming.

"Much better," Unicron sang. "And let me give a piece of advice for the next time you find yourself with a decision like this again. Always go with the harder decision. It will make you stronger in the end." Unicron easily hauled Knock Out up, then threw him into the side of the _Nemesis_ , which was parked between them and the Well.

The way plating bent and crunched and scraped against itself made everyone cringe at the sight.

"That's got to hurt," Wheeljack muttered under his breath.

"How dare you!" Predaking roared, transforming quickly and preparing to seek his revenge against Unicron for hurting one of his own.

Darksteel and Skylynx had followed Predaking's action without hesitation, seeking to follow their leader in attacking and taking down Unicron.

Shockwave's odds of survival were looking even better now after watching how idiotic the others were being.

But despite all their might and power, Unicron, with one hand a hammer and the other his claws, juggled the Predacons easily.

"Smokescreen," Unicron called, dropping his hammer onto the back of Darksteel, grabbing onto Skylynx's neck with his free arm, and pinning Predaking down with his pede.

Unicron defied everything Shockwave based his foundations and ideologies on. Unicron defied the very thing Shockwave devoted his thoughts and actions to. Unicron defied all logic.

Shockwave couldn't analyze Unicron. He was too powerful. He was too complex. Everything about Unicron was impossible. There was nothing to analyze. He was the front cover of a book. Easy to see, but out of context and meaningless without the pages within.

The title of this specific book was just that. Easy to see and obvious. The only thing that's different about Unicron's book is that the contents inside the book aren't needed to know exactly what the title means.

_Raw power. Unbridled strength. Untouchable. Unkillable._

The Autobots and the Predacons, on the other hand, might think they are powerful and strong. They might think they are untouchable, but they are very much killable.

Smokescreen had responded to Unicron's call right away, waiting for the orders Unicron was preparing to give him.

"Won't you be a dear and kill the rest of them for me?"

Smokescreen could no longer speak. He had lost his voice box. He had no way to communicate his reply.

But, just like Unicron's obvious power, Smokescreen's answer was easy for Shockwave to hear loud and clear.

_Oh, Lord of the Undead, Bringer of Chaos, Master of Evil, I will kill them without hesitation... I will kill them with pleasure._


	46. Chapter 46

Smokescreen was agile, his speed and small frame made him so. But he was strong, imbued with the strength of Unicron.

It took him half a second to flip Bulkhead over his shoulders without sound or warning. The bigger Wrecker barely even had the time to react before he was on his back and Smokescreen was already moving on.

Bumblebee stood a better chance because he was also of a similar height and speed, but he drew no weapons. He didn’t even touch Smokescreen. He could have. He had several opportunities to get a good hit in, but he didn’t take them. He refused to hurt Smokescreen.

Arcee was the same. She dodged and she fought. She wasn’t afraid to punch Smokescreen or swing him around a little. But she didn’t use weapons and she didn’t do any real damage. She was trying to fight him, but not trying to hurt him.

All of them shared the same weakness and the same downfall.

They stood no chance against an enemy that was trying to kill them if they weren’t trying to kill him.

This was a one-sided fight because all of the Autobots were _too_ _attached._

“Do you host any significant attachments to Smokescreen?” Shockwave asked the former Seeker at his side.

“Significant?” Dreadwing looked at Shockwave, then Smokescreen. “No.”

“Then you have no qualms doing what must be done?”

“None.”

“And you are _willing_ to do it?”

“Yes.”

Shockwave stepped forward, walking confidently toward Smokescreen, who was still locked in battle with Arcee.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Wheeljack got in front of Shockwave quickly. “What do you think you are doing?”

“What you Autobots are too afraid to do,” Shockwave shoved past Wheeljack easily.

“If you kill him-”

“He’s already dead.”

Wheeljack was left speechless, a first for him, as Shockwave turned away and Dreadwing passed on his other side.

Shockwave increased his energy consumption. He could feel his systems grow louder and his power shift higher. His processing and movement speed increased. His HUD blinked with his new strength and agility.

He waited for the right moment, allowing the fusion cannon on his arm to charge up a sufficient amount and taking aim. With Arcee still fighting, he would risk hitting her.

But did he really care about that?

He’d honestly be just fine with accidentally taking Arcee out at the same time. Except that he still needed all of the Autobots alive in order to stand a chance against Unicron.

“Can you get me a good shot on Smokescreen?” Shockwave tilted his helm toward Dreadwing.

He answered by walking forward to the fight.

Arcee blocked another of Smokescreen’s blows and delivered a weak one in return. Smokescreen wasn’t fazed in the slightest, only showing how much Arcee was actually trying.

They kept fighting until Dreadwing walked directly in between them. It caught Arcee by surprise, and Smokescreen hesitated with his next attack.

Dreadwing took advantage of that by kicking the back of Smokescreen’s leg, wrapping one arm underneath Smokescreen’s arm and around his head, then with the other arm, he grabbed one of Smokescreen’s door wings and twisted him around, so that Smokescreen’s chassis was now a perfect target for Shockwave.

The kid reacted by trying to fight his way out of the hold and kick against Dreadwing. He tried punching and scratching at Dreadwing’s arms and helm with his unsecured hand, but Dreadwing didn’t allow himself to even flinch as he suffered through the digits grating against his plates.

Shockwave took the opportunity to fire without hesitation.

Smokescreen crumbled as his chassis smoldered and smoked. Dreadwing let go and allowed the rookie to fall.

“Why did you do that?” Arcee demanded.

“Because while he is fighting to kill, you are not,” Shockwave explained as he stepped forward. “We will take care of Smokescreen from here. Assist the Predacons in their fight against Unicron. They will need it.”

Dreadwing unsheathed his sword, resting the tip of it between Smokescreen’s door wings. "And ensure that Knock Out is still alright. Unicron did something to him. We need to know if that something is going to become a potential issue.

"If you kill him, I'll kill you," Arcee threatened as she pointed a finger to emphasize her point.

Dreadwing looked her straight in the optic. "I know you will." Then he plunged his sword straight through Smokescreen, stopping once he heard it clang against the ground below.

Arcee transformed her hands into guns in less than a second. "Step away from him Dreadwing. I gave you a warning."

"No need to be so dramatic," Shockwave stepped between Arcee and Dreadwing, waving his hand dismissively as he did. "What Dreadwing just did was only to further prove my point. Although he was just shot and stabbed through the spark, Smokescreen is still very much able to move. We can not kill him because he is already dead. Now step aside and let us take care of this."

"Apologies, Arcee, but Shockwave speaks the truth," Dreadwing said, pulling his sword out of Smokescreen and watching as purple smoke leaked from the wound instead of energon.

"I know," Arcee's guns disappeared, and she slowly lowered her arms, but her glare remained unchanging and cold.

Smokescreen started standing up, a hand over his blown open chassis, but clearly not bothered by it. His optics were closed and he shook his helm, orienting himself after taking the two large blows to his spark. His, now visible, spark pulsed, then a large wave of purple energy spread from it.

It was overwhelming as the energy forced itself through systems and processes. It simultaneously strengthened processed but tore down systems at the same time. It flickered optics out of use but increased audio reception. It froze limbs, then increased energon flow. Its strange increase and decrease of everything at the same time ended with the absence of anything.

It took Shockwave less than a minute to come back online after a system overload caused by Smokescreen's spark surge forced him to reboot his processes. Less than a minute, but his HUD was already alerting him that he had sustained damage to his cannon and optic. He noticed the crack in his display immediately after it was pointed out to him. He was still standing in the same position, proving how short and quick of a shut down this was.

The fight between the Predacons and Unicron, and Wheeljack, who had ended up joining them, was still going on, meaning that the range of the surge was only a few meters and it was clearly not bright enough or big enough for the others to notice. Smokescreen stood in the middle of them, no light coming from his frame after clearly suffering from the same reboot Shockwave just did.

Arcee and Dreadwing had also been shut offline, but they began moving again moments after Shockwave had. The glass cockpit on Dreadwing's chest had been cracked, similar to Arcee's windshield and the glass on Shockwave's own chassis. This was clearly more than just some type of EMP spark surge. It had some power to it.

"What was that?" Arcee asked, examining herself for any major damage the wave might have caused.

"A spark surge," Shockwave explained. "They very rarely occur in patients on their deathbed. It is a condition that causes a spark to release one last wave of energy before it fades out of existence. I have seen it happen once before. It forced my systems to go into reboot mode. It is not particularly dangerous or harmful. It just causes a momentary shutdown. Speaking of, your weapons and ability to transform might not come back online for a short while."

"So Smokescreen's spark just... exploded?" Arcee questioned as she attempted to process the information.

"More or less," Shockwave began. "But this one felt different. There was power behind it. It might have _actually_ been dangerous since Smokescreen's spark has been corrupted by dark energon. Luckily, from what my scans have read so far, it does not seem to have any long-lasting effects, but you might feel a wave of fatigue or nausea because of its metaphorical after-shock."

"And if his spark exploded, does that mean he's..." Arcee trailed off.

"Yes, he is dead, but we have already gone over that. I believe this spark surge was due to the attacks Dreadwing and I delivered to his spark, but he is still under Unicron's control, which means that he is not out of the fight just yet. It will just take him a moment longer to regain his senses."

Just then, like Smokescreen was waiting for Shockwave to finish his explanation before he started to move, Smokescreen's optics flickered once, but nothing happened. Smokescreen never moved, like he was frozen there. Like he was melted into place.

Since Smokescreen was now un-dead, he should have returned online by now. His optics were on for a moment, but he didn't seem to be online yet. There was something more going on in this situation.

"That does not seem right," Shockwave stated, mind racing through hypothesis' and conclusions, trying to calculate data and figure out what exactly was going on. "Arcee, Dreadwing, get over here. Something about this seems off. It definitely is not a regular spark surge."

Arcee walked over Shockwave, confused but understanding. Dreadwing did the same, but not letting his optics move from Smokescreen, whose optics had gone dark again, as he did. He walked carefully, his sword once again in hand with optics narrowed.

Arcee was closer to Shockwave and had made it to him without any idea of what was going on and still nothing from Smokescreen. But the second Dreadwing walked in front of Smokescreen, the purple optics were back. Dreadwing stopped, waiting for Smokescreen to make another move, but nothing ever happened. He just stared.

Dreadwing took an experimental step, watching as Smokescreen's head moved just the slightest bit to keep optic contact with Dreadwing. With another step, Smokescreen's body started to twist. The movement was unnatural and seemed forced. It was like watching a puppet being moved slowly with strings. His turns were slow and staggered. His steps were heavy and his digits and door wings twitched every so often. His left optic would fade, then flicker back to life.

When Dreadwing had made it to Shockwave and Arcee's side, Smokescreen was turned and staring directly at them, but his optics didn't seem focused. His neck was bent awkwardly like it was broken. Then, his plating started to release steam. His plating started turning black and shriveling like it was melted. The plating around his left optic had started to smoke as well and the plating disappeared in patches, like burn wounds.

"Would you mind telling me how your logic explains this?" Dreadwing asked, watching as Smokescreen slowly seemed to be fitting the role of 'dead' much more.

"I believe you destroyed his spark," Shockwave answered, noting that it had yet to light back up again.

"I thought you said he could not die," Arcee pointed out.

"He can't. But I am starting to suspect that his spark was his link to Unicron and since you destroyed it, the link was cut, and since Unicron is otherwise occupied, he has not been able to restore that link yet."

"Then why is he melting?"

"Given Unicron's abilities, I think that it might have been possible that Unicron had somehow healed Smokescreen or otherwise made it so that Smokescreen looked like his normal self. But without Unicron's power, Smokescreen's appearance is returning to how it was at the moment of his death."

"Then how the hell _did_ he die?" Arcee grimaced as she watched the whole in Smokescreen's chassis start to melt deeper until the whole went straight through Smokescreen.

"Fire, it would seem," Shockwave said as the steam rolling off Smokescreen only seemed to billow higher.

"Dark Mount's melting pit is still active," Dreadwing commented.

It was a grim realization. An awful way to go, really. Suffering through the searing pain as you are completely burned to nothing more than ash. You would have to feel every system that melts, every nerve that shuts down, every second of unbearable pain until finally, _finally_ , it melts your spark too.

Smokescreen's arm started to rise. It was nothing more than burnt plating and scolded protoform. His charred digits spread out, reaching out, asking, _begging,_ for help. His mouth opened, speaking soundless words.

They could hear his voice. It echoed in their processors. It cried out to them. It screamed for them.

_Please..._

Smokescreen's optics were pained and soft. He was looking at them. He needed them. He was dying.

_Please..._

The purple of his optics faded into a barely visible glow. The purple itself seemed different, almost. It was different as in... not purple. Different as in _Autobot blue._

_Forgive me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me hysterically laughing because I know the amount of angst and tears that are going to ensue.


	47. Chapter 47

Arcee hadn't even noticed that Optimus arrived. She was too focused on the fact that Smokescreen just _died_ in front of her. Watching his armor melt and his face turn in pain. She couldn't even begin to imagine what that must of been like.

But she knew all too well what she was feeling right now. What it felt like to lose a partner, a friend.

He was young. He was _too_ _young._

Too young to need therapy. Too young to be plagued by the ghastly horrors of war. Too young to died.

The war was over. People shouldn't be dying anymore. Especially not energetic kids. Especially not Smokescreen.

She had ignored Dreadwing and Shockwave telling her that now was not the time. She ignored them trying to get her to get over this in less than a second and move on. She ignored them urging her to help them deal with Unicron.

_Fight first, cry later._

It wasn't that easy for people that actually _had_ emotions. It wasn't easy for people like her. People that had lost so much already.

Did she really have to lose Smokescreen too?

She was partially glad that Knock Out was unconscious after whatever Unicron did to him. She didn't want to see how he would react to this. Ever since he had become part Predacon, his emotional drive has been higher and his emotional sensitivity was turned up all the way. The smallest thing could make him angry and he also found it in himself to act accordingly.

Dreadwing and Shockwave had given up on trying to get her away from Smokescreen and had gone to Optimus for proper guidance on how they should defeat Unicron. Predaking had gone to pick up Knock Out and take him away from the fight. Darksteel and Skylynx were busy licking their wounds while Shockwave tried to convince them to distract Unicron's army, which had resumed their dive toward the All Spark. Bumblebee and Bulkhead had gotten up after their beating and found the same sight she was staring at. They took it nearly the same way she did.

Everything around them was happening impossibly fast all of a sudden, but somehow, the time they spent staring at Smokescreen's outstretched arm and sorry optics was happening in slow motion.

She had walked to Smokescreen, reaching out with her own hand, trying to save him from the fate he had already suffered. She wanted to help him. She had to help him.

There had to be something, _something_ she could do. Something more than mourning or burying him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," she whispered, touching Smokescreen's hand delicately as if she were afraid he would shatter like glass under her fingertips. "You didn't deserve this. You had so much to live for."

"What happened?" Bumblebee asked softly, almost afraid to know what could have caused Smokescreen to end up charred with a massive hole blown straight through his spark.

"Was it Shockwave and Dreadwing?" Bulkhead asked quietly, almost afraid of learning that this was indeed caused by two people he was trying to learn how to trust.

"No," Arcee took her hand away from Smokescreen, frowning at the way the tips of her digits had become smudged with black marks. "They only disconnecting him from Unicron's power. And without that power, Smokescreen couldn't keep living- living as well as a dead mech could, that is. This... is what Smokescreen looked like at his... _actual_ time of death."

"How did..." Bulkhead trailed off.

"I'm not sure," Arcee shook her head. "Dreadwing said that maybe... the smelting pits at Dark Mount. We can get Smokescreen to Ratchet for a proper autopsy. We'll know for sure after that. Knowing the cause of death would bring me some solace."

"Not me," Bumblebee disagreed absently. "I'd prefer not to know what his last moments were like."

"He asked us to forgive him," Arcee's throat tightened and she forced herself not to shed any tears here.

"What does he have to be forgiven of?" Bumblebee sounded angry, a rare occurrence. But he wasn't angry at Smokescreen, not at himself either, nor at anyone in particular. Just _angry._ "He had nothing to be sorry for, nothing to be forgiven of. So how come he's the one apologizing? How come he's the one asking for forgiveness? That should be us. We should be apologizing to _him._ We should be the ones asking for _his_ forgiveness."

"We could have done something before this happened," Bulkhead remarked. "If we never left Dark Mount on that day. If we had disobeyed Ratchet and left. If we had just done _something_ , we might have been able to save him."

" _Might._ "

Behind them, they found Shockwave, optic as menacing and creepy as ever, although a web of cracks ran through it. His cannon arm was crushed, likely the work of Unicron, and one of his fins was broken off, probably thanks to Unicron as well. His remaining antenna still flicked forward slightly as he spoke again.

"You _might_ have been able to save him."

Dreadwing stepped at Shockwave's side and urged him away from the mourning Autobots. "Not now, Shockwave. Unicron is dealt with, so _let them have this._ They need it."

"Ratchet has been informed of the situation, by the way," Shockwave said instead of continuing to force his logic and morals on them. "He will be here shortly." He walked away without another word.

Arcee nodded, but she didn't trust her voice enough to bother saying 'thank you,' or anything, right now. She felt like her throat had closed and her circulation was being cut off from everywhere. She had dealt with loss before, but none of them felt like this before.

She thought this was supposed to get easier after you lost more people, but it's only gotten harder.

"Why does losing people you love have to be so hard?" she ended up asking aloud.

"Because that is what happens when you love people," Dreadwing, who had not yet left yet, answered poetically. "The more you care, the more it hurts."

"Is that why you and Shockwave don't care about anyone?" Arcee wondered. "You don't care because you've already lost so much?"

"I am unable to speak for Shockwave and any others, but yes. I have already lost the few things I cared about, so there is no point in getting attached to something new."

"You care about Wheeljack though, right?"

"Yes."

"And you cared about Smokescreen?"

"Without a doubt."

"Then why don't you seem like it?"

"Because as soldiers, we were told to 'suck it up and move on.' Fight first, cry later. We were told to follow those orders."

"Even now? Even after you've betrayed the Decepticons and joined us? You're still following orders?"

"As long as they keep the pain away."

"If you don't mind me asking, what have you lost?"

"What have I lost?" Dreadwing paused for a moment, thinking about his answer carefully, thinking about what exactly he _has_ lost.

Homes, honor, pride, possessions, people- leaders, generals, soldiers, friends, _family._

"What have I lost?" he repeated once more. " _Everything._ "


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: literally doing nothing all day even though I have a bunch of free time and nothing to do  
> Me at 10:30 at night: i literally have no free time, but i guess it’s time to write todays chapter of my fanfic in an hour and hope it somehow turns out to be good like all the other ones

It was all like a dream to Knock Out. A long, hazy dream that he could only remember bits and pieces of.

Emotions got the better of him once again. He couldn't control himself once again.

He wasn’t sure if he had hurt anyone in his emotional rage and upset, but it wouldn’t be long before Knock Out would know.

If the others talked to him with caution or stepped away from him, he would know. If the tensed as he walked and flinched as he spoke, then he would know.

He’d know that he was a damn fool for thinking that he could actually control his emotions. He was a damn fool for thinking that he still deserved to keep on living.

He knows it would have been better if he had died in that hallway after attacking Smokescreen. He knows it would have been better if he never came back and they never saw him again. He knows it's true, but at the same time, he knows it wouldn’t be _right_.

He groans groggily as he tries to piece back the forgotten details of this dream-like ordeal.

_Unicron._ Unicron was there. Unicron was the one that _did_ this to Knock Out.

Something had snapped inside of Knock Out’s processor. He remembers that, at least. It only felt like a dull headache though, so maybe it was just a concussion or minor head injury and nothing to worry about.

He couldn't feel any other injuries either, which was a relief. But if he was being honest, he couldn't feel much of _anything_.

His mind felt calm and the voice that usually roared at him from inside his head was quiet. It was so peaceful inside that Knock Out found himself willing his optics to close again so he could return to recharge and enjoy that foggy dream he was having.

The doctor buried in his energon lines and thought processes had better ideas, though.

This was a head injury, he could not go to sleep right now unless he wanted to potentially not wake up again. He was still in the middle of a battlefield, he could not afford to go to sleep without the risk of getter injured even more or mistaken for a dead mech.

And among the memories of what happened moments before he was knocked offline, the ones with Smokescreen wouldn’t allow him to fall asleep anyway.

Smokescreen was... dead. That’s right. There were no living sharks in front of them. Smokescreen was dead.

Knock Out vividly remembers that it was the knowledge of Smokescreen’s death that had set Knock Ouf off on his emotional and idiotic rampage. He remembers the anger he felt at Unicron and the guilt he felt at himself and the sorrow he felt for Smokescreen.

He expected that all those emotions and feelings were going to come back and take over again, spiraling him into another nonsensical spree.

But he didn’t feel anything. Absolutely nothing. All he felt was hallow.

There was a gap where his hate should be. There was a hole where his guilt should be. There was a rift where his sadness should be overwhelming him.

It was almost like those emotions were never there in the first place.

All he felt was that annoying headache at the back of his helm. Maybe having Ratchet take a look at it once Unicron was dealt with was a good idea.

Knock Out forced himself to his pedes, ignoring the way his plating creaked and holding on to his head in hopes that it might stop the pounding.

Wheeljack was the first one that seemed to notice that he was back on his feet. He had walked over with a half-smirk on his face. It looked more forced than usual.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Wheeljack said once he reached Knock Out’s side. “You missed out on all the fun, though.”

“Fun?” Knock Out took a minute to try and figure out what ‘fun’ Wheeljack was talking about. “Wait... Unicron’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Well,” Wheeljack turned his head a bit awkwardly. “It’s not really like that. Optimus trapped Unicron, so he’s not dead, but he’s out of the fight. Permanently. But we need to take a look at you first. Unicron did something to you earlier and we need to figure out what exactly it was.”

“I’ve got a bothersome headache that won’t allow me to do anything other than stand here in pain.”

“Ratchet’s on his way already, so we’ll have him take a look at you once he arrives.”

“Do to the location of the injury and its effects, I believe that it must be a concussion. It also seems to be messing with a few of my processes, which must be why I can’t perform a full diagnostic scan.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, the impact you made against the ship might have caused you a concussion, but I think Unicron did something worse. His _actual_ digits were in your head. He messed something up in there. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you feel?”

“Feel? No. I don’t feel anything.”

“No pain then?”

“No _anything._ ”

Wheeljack opened his mouth, but no sound came out, even though his mannerisms said that he was speaking and sound _should_ be coming out of his mouth, though from the way Wheeljack opened his mouth, it was likely only a short ‘ _huh.’_

”I’m not entirely certain myself, ” Knock Out shrugged, shaking his head slightly, although that only seemed to make the pounding worse. “It’s possible that I suffered some shock from the injury that has now caused my reaction to the wound to be dampened, though not being able to scan it properly makes it harder to know for sure.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound too good, ” Wheeljack said honestly. “It’d probably be best if you sit the rest of this out.”

“I thought you said it was already over.”

“Well, the fighting is,” Wheeljack sounded extremely hesitant to finish his explanation. “We still... have cleanup, to finish.”

“Of course,” Knock Out nodded. “Unicron’s army must have left quite the mound of bones to pick up.”

“His army dissolved. No cleanup necessary.”

“Then it’s on our side, isn’t it?” Knock Out looked down, but his words felt hollow.

“It was probably best that you were unconscious for it,” Wheeljack said, confirming Knock Out’s suspicions without actually saying it. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“Who was it?”

“Technically, he was already dead, but- promise me you won’t lose your mind and kill anyone if I tell you?”

That was all the answer Knock Out needed.

“It was Smokescreen,” Knock Ouf said, voice empty of anything and void of everything.

“Yes... it was.”

It was the strangest feeling that Knock Out had just then. But it wasn’t really a _feeling_ he had, it was more like the lack of one. Smokescreen was dead and Knock Out felt nothing _._

No anger. No rage. No pain. No guilt. No sorrow.

He felt nothing _._

Absolutely _nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that I don’t have time to write, it’s just that I don’t use my time properly. If I was better at time management, I would probably be able to post daily chapters, but I’m not. Anyway, posting every other day does relieve some stress off my shoulders, so even if I could use my time better, I probably wouldn’t post daily just to let myself relax and take a little more time on chapters.


	49. Chapter 49

There was nothing, but Knock Out felt dizzy. His vision fell out of focus and his joints tightened. He could feel his knees start to lock up and his head start to spin, more so than it already was.

This all felt so… _so_ wrong.

“Whoa, there,” Wheeljack had quickly moved to keep Knock Out from collapsing. “You alright?”

Knock Out opened his mouth, but found no words. He made gestures with his hands, hoping Wheeljack would figure something out from his vague waving.

“Don’t worry, I got you, ” Wheeljack slowly helped Knock Out to the ground and leaned him up against the side of the _Nemesis_ he was thrown into earlier. “I’ll let Ratchet know you need help. Just sit tight and calm down. I know you must be going through a lot of emotions right now, but it’ll be alright.”

_What emotions?_

But perhaps his lack of current emotions was because he was going through _too many_ emotions to be able to feel them all.

The shock of his head injury and the shock of Smokescreen’s death. It was an easy solution and explanation to this all. Knock Out’s seen this kind of thing happen before.

People have gone into such a deep state of shock that they don’t feel anything until reality finally sets in. People lose loved ones, but don’t cry until the funeral.

They’re not sociopaths or anything of the sort, their mind just isn't able to process such a devastating realization. That’s just how their psychology and autonomy works.

Then some people go into an even deeper state of shock. They go so deep that they completely repress any and all memories of such an event ever happening.

But he didn’t feel like he was going into shock. This was different and strange and new and… _wrong._

“When’s Ratchet getting here?” Knock Out asked, finding himself able to whisper out the words against his pounding thoughts.

“Not sure,” Wheeljack admitted. “But he’ll be here as soon as he can get Magnus, who’s awake, by the way, back to the ship.”

“Guess Magnus decided to wake up after everything was over too,” Knock Out heard a small huff of a laugh come out of his mouth, but there was nothing behind it. No amusement, no enjoyment, no sarcasm.

“Glad to see you still have your incredible sense of humor,” Wheeljack did sound amused, his voice was full of sarcasm, and he actually seemed to enjoy it.

_This was wrong._

He needed Ratchet to get here. He needed to know if what he was beginning to think happened actually did.

Unicron’s claws went straight to his processor. If Unicron’s claws went _far_ enough into Knock Out’s processor, then they’d have a big issue on their servos. An issue that not even Ratchet would be able to fix.

“But if you want, I can call Shockwave to give you a look over,” Wheeljack offered. “You look like your panicking, so I’m starting to think that it might be more urgent than you're letting on.”

“I’m panicking?” Knock Out asked, unaware that he had done anything to make it seem that way.

It’s not that he wasn’t panicking, he definitely was, but he didn’t want to be panicking and he definitely didn’t want everyone else to start panicking because he was, but he really couldn't help the fact that he might have sustained a major head injury that damaged his emotional receptors and now he has no way of feeling any emotion even though Smokescreen is-

“Alright, I’m getting Shockwave,” Wheeljack decided in Knock Out’s state of panicked thought.

Knock Out would have protested that he could wait for Ratchet, but Wheeljack was already gone, and Knock Out’s foggy gaze was following him as he made his way to the large, purple scientist that was currently standing with the others in a crowd around something Knock Out could only guess was.

Wheeljack tapped on Shockwave’s shoulder and he had turned his head with a flick of his fin. Their conversation was short and ended when Wheeljack pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Knock Out. Shockwave followed the finger, red optic boring into Knock Out before there was a nod, and he walked toward Knock Out. Wheeljack was talking at his side, most likely explaining to Shockwave what he had seen.

“- seem right,” was the last part of their conversation and the only part Knock Out had been able to actually hear.

Shockwave nodded at Wheeljack, then knelt down in front of Knock Out, starting a quick scan as soon as he did. There was a small beep, then Shockwave stared at the data he gathered. Knock Out found it hard to keep staring at Shockwave's optic.

The prolonged silence was worrisome.

“No news is good news?” Knock Out asked, hesitantly because he knew that was not true in this case.

Shockwave roughly grabbed the back of Knock Out’s neck and forced his head forward.

“Ow,” Knock Out complained.

“Wheeljack, give me a light,” Shockwave demanded.

The Wrecker quickly offered the small flashlight he kept on him for ship repairs.

“Shine it at the back here,” Shockwave pointed at the three holes leaking energon down the back of Knock Out’s head.

"Just tell me that there's no damage to my limbic system," Knock Out pleaded.

"There's no damage to your limbic system," Shockwave replied, but he actually seemed to mean it. "But there is damage to several other parts of your brain. Minor damage, luckily."

"How is _any_ brain damage minor damage?" Wheeljack asked.

"Major brain damage would mean that he's dead or in a coma," Shockwave replied. "The fact that he is still alive and conscious means that the damage was minor for damage to his brain, not minor compared to other injuries."

"And just _how_ much damage is there?" Knock Out asked, willing himself to ignore the pain Shockwave's prodding and poking caused him.

"Damage to the occipital lobe: you might find focussing your optics more difficult than usual and you might not be able to focus on things close up at all. Damage to the Cerebellum: you might find it difficult to perform simple, voluntary actions that you would normally be able to do with ease. Damage to the brainstem: luckily, nothing serious, although it would be unsurprising if you found yourself with pain or locked joints in your spinal strut. Damage to the temporal lobes: you may have issues with hearing and problems creating new memories. There is no damage to your limbic system as a whole, but the shock your processor has sustained seems to have rendered your amygdala useless."

"I was trying to blame it on the shock of learning about Smokescreen's death," Knock Out said as Shockwave released his head and allowed him to hold it up more comfortably. "But I had a feeling about the truth of it, but not the whole of it. I hadn't realized there was _so much_ damage."

"He punctured your cranial cavity in three different places, but he only poked certain parts of your processor, making some functions falter and causing even the minimal damage he caused to create shock enough to shut down the innermost part of your brain. It is incredible how he was able to perform such a feat. I wonder how he was able to do it. I did not notice any signs of Dark Energon with the scan, but it is still possible. A scan with proper medical equipment would be better and provide much better results. Of course, Unicron might have the skill and knowledge to do this completely by hand. It is difficult, but not impossible. I would not be surprised if either were the case. I am no neurosurgeon, but with some work, I should be able to fix the majority of your new issues. With Ratchet's help, it will be even easier to do."

There was another silence and Shockwave stood, allowing Knock Out to take the moment to absorb all the information Shockwave had just fed him. The new damage to his Cerebellum was definitely not helping his ability to process it.

"Help me up, will you?" Knock Out asked, raising a servo for either Wheeljack or Shockwave to take.

It was Wheeljack that ended up taking it, pulling Knock Out to his pedes and helping him remain steady.

"I want to see him," Knock Out mumbled. This was supposed to be grim, so he lowered his voice, keeping the solemn atmosphere.

"You will not feel anything when you see him," Shockwave said as Knock Out carefully walked to the other Autobots.

"I already don't feel anything. Nothing but pain."

Shockwave walked behind them silently with a slight limp in his step that Knock Out was only able to notice because he could focus on nothing other than noise. The mismatched sound of pedes falling was unmistakable. Knock Out had heard it time and time again when soldiers with leg injuries walked into his med bay.

"How'd he die?" Knock Out asked, finally laying his optics on the black Smokescreen's charred armor.

"The melting pit in Dark Mount," Wheeljack answered. "That's what Dreadwing said, at least. It's the most possible and believable, given the circumstances."

It took Knock Out's optics a moment to actually focus on Smokescreen, just like Shockwave had said. Knock Out felt nothing, no sorrow or sadness, just like Shockwave had said.

He remembers when he thought he'd killed Smokescreen in the hallway of the _Nemesis._ The feeling of complete horror and shock. The way he felt like his spark had been ripped out and shattered into pieces. The pure agony in his cries and utter despair.

He remembers what it felt like then, but he could only imagine what it would feel like now.

There was nothing that drew his attention to Smokescreen. There was nothing that made him want to keep staring at him frozen like a burned statue the way the others did. There was nothing that made him want to care. Nothing that made him want to cry. Nothing that would let his emotions out.

Nothing that would... make him lose control...

Knock Out's optics narrowed as his thoughts started swimming relentlessly through his damaged processor. Thinking hurt, but he couldn't help it.

"Vision problems?" Shockwave questioned, noticing the way Knock Out seemed to be squinting.

"Huh?" Knock Out turned to Shockwave, falling out of his thought process. "No, sorry. I just... realized something."

Shockwave tugged Knock Out away a step, silently wondering what it was that Knock Out realized.

"If I can't feel emotions," Knock Out began. "Then I can't lose control."

Shockwave stared, then his undamaged fin flicked forward, then back. "That... would be logical, wouldn't it. Just after were went offline, Unicron said that this would make you stronger. He got rid of your ability to feel emotions, among other things, but he did it on purpose."

"No emotion means complete control. Complete control means... more strength. He knew what he was doing. He _knew._ Shockwave, what he did... he saved me from myself."

"I would refrain from saying that he 'saved' you, but what he did certainly made you stronger."

Knock Out was taking a moment to process the information, allowing his optics to wonder as he did, but they stopped on something in the distance.

It was someone.

Silver frame. Tall and spikey shoulders. Posture condescending and powerful.

It didn't take a pair of perfect optics to know exactly who it was.

"Unicron?"

Shockwave turned to follow Knock Out's gaze.

"Not anymore," Shockwave stated. "Optimus sealed Unicron. You were still offline when it happened."

"Then it's..." Knock Out trailed off, but Shockwave seemed to understand just fine and answered the question.

"Megatron."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me using human terminology for the brain anatomy of transformers because i don't know if they call their lobes something else, but i don't feel like looking it up.


	50. Chapter 50

Megatron? _Megatron!?_

Why was he still alive? Why was he still here? Why did he think he was even welcome near any of them anymore? Did he really have to impudence to show his ugly mug to the people that he has fought for millions of years like none of that ever happened? Did he really have the effrontery to stand in front of people that despise him and act like he's never taken the life of anyone they've ever cared about?

Knock Out was one of the people that despised Megatron. He hated him. He had a long list of reasons why he was never going to follow Megatron ever again, starting with the ungodly amount of pain Megatron caused _everyone,_ not just Smokescreen. The second thing on the list was the many instances where he took advantage of Smokescreen and raped him like the sick, bastard warlord he is.

Optimus has always been lenient and has always believed in second chances, but _Megatron?_ Optimus was going to give _Megatron_ a second chance? That's unreasonable for even Optimus' ideologies.

The only fate left for Megatron is death.

Optimus knows that. Shockwave knows that. Knock Out knows that. Everyone knows that.

They shouldn't be giving Megatron another chance. He doesn't deserve it. He shouldn't get another chance at life. He should have stayed dead. He shouldn't get another chance at redemption. He's too far gone to redeem.

Knock Out hates Megatron. He hates what Megatron stood for. He hates what Megatron's said. He hates what Megatron's done. He hates Megatron so much that his new lack of emotions doesn't even dull the complete rancor and abhorrence he recognized at the very sight of Megatron.

Knock Out wanted to kill Megatron. He wanted to rip out his spark and squeeze it slowly until it finally fades out of existent. He wanted to dose Megatron up with such a high concentration of his venom that everything shut down painfully and Megatron was forced to slowly watch everything fail. He wanted to tear off Megatron's helm and kick it down the very well they were just defending from Unicron. He wanted to take Megatron apart, then break everything beyond any sort of use. He wanted to blast a hole through Megatron's spark, then through him into a smelting pit.

That would be fitting.

Like that one human saying- an eye for an eye.

_A spark for a spark._

Knock Out was growling. He was seething animosity. He was snarling. He was hissing. He was going to kill Megatron.

He _should_ be growling. He _should_ be seething animosity. He _should_ be snarling. He _should_ be hissing. He _should_ kill Megatron.

He _had_ the enmity and repugnance, so why couldn't he find it in himself to bring that to the surface? He _had_ the revulsion and odium, so why couldn't he _feel_ it?

“Apparently, he says that he has come to his senses,” Shockwave commented skeptically, pulling Knock Out back from his inner struggle against his brain damage. “I heard him talking with Optimus after they sealed Unicron away. He said he is no longer interested in fighting.”

Knock Out narrowed his optics, trying to get them to focus better on Megatron. He was just standing there. Standing there doing nothing. No plotting. No planning. No attacking. Just standing and waiting.

"Leaving him alone seems like the best option at the moment," Shockwave reasoned. "If we do not give him a reason to reignite his hatred toward us, he will remain harmless."

Knock Out was already walking toward Megatron.

"What did I just-" Shockwave sighed and gave up on trying to stop Knock Out.

There was no immediate hostility in Knock Out's approach, so Shockwave allowed it. As long as Knock Out behaved himself and did nothing to antagonize Megatron, it would all be fine. But of course, this was Knock Out. His official job title should be Chief Medical Bitch. He was going to take full advantage of the fact that Megatron was currently being _peaceful_ and say something that would screw this all up.

Knock Out strolled to Megatron's side, saying nothing and just standing next to the warlord, who was just looking out upon the stars speckled across Cybertron's sky.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Knock Out asked, half surprising Megatron that it wasn't a threat or a growl.

"It's been too long since I've seen it," Megatron replied hesitantly, looking down at Knock Out, finding the lack of hostility and deciding to answer. "I must confess, you were the last person I would have expected to approach me, peacefully, that is. I would have expected you to try and kill me by now."

“Believe it or not, I just want to talk," Knock Out found it easy to keep his voice level and in control when there was nothing to keep out of it and control.

“You and I both know that is not why you are here," Megatron replied, returning his gaze back to the sky.

“I wanted to see if Shockwave was telling the truth about you coming to your senses," Knock Out admitted.

“I've been trapped inside my own head, stuck inside a body not controlled by me, and forced to face the wrath of Unicron,” Megatron began. "You learn a thing or two in that kind of situation.

“That so?" Knock Out's voice was borderline amused, but he wasn't finding any _real_ entertainment in this. "I must say that I’m surprised you could learn anything at all after everything you’ve done.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to kill me yet after how much you hate me," Megatron countered, although it was still far from arguing, which they both seemed keen on avoiding, at least.

“Oh, I don't hate you. I just _despise_ you.”

“Then I must congratulate you on your incredible facade. I had assumed you had approached me without any hostility. I should have known better than to suspect such an obvious fraud. There is no one that hates me more than you do."

“Facade? This is courtesy of Unicron. Did you know that it's possible to deactivate someone's emotions without causing the rest of the brain to suffer serious damage?"

Megatron seemed to finally understand what Knock Out was referring to and why Knock Out was acting the way he was. His lack of hostility and absence of reaction finally made sense. He finally knew why Knock Out hadn't killed him yet.

Knock Out hated him. Knock Out wanted to kill him. He just couldn't channel that hate enough to kill him.

“But believe me, I probably would have you killed you the moment I realized you were still alive," Knock Out stated. Threats seemed all the more effective when they were dead with a dead expression and emotionless voice. "I would have torn your spark out if I had been conscious when Smokescreen died again.”

“Funny that you mention sparks."

“How so?”

“Unicron ripped Smokescreen's spark out before he through him to the pit."

"I don't see why that has anything to do with this? It's a little late for that. Smokescreen's already dead."

"Yes, his _body_ is dead."

"You're making even less sense now. Are you sure coming to your senses wasn't just you losing your mind?"

"I'm trying to tell you that even though Smokescreen is technically dead, his _spark_ isn't. The part that matters is still as bright and pure as ever. And by that definition, Smokescreen is _alive_."

As farfetched and completely impossible as it sounded, this could be an opportunity to save Smokescreen. A spark transfer. They could try putting Smokescreen's spark back into his body and bringing him back. They could put Smokescreen's spark into another body and transfer all of Smokescreen's data to that body and bring Smokescreen back. They could save him. They wouldn't have to deal with the loss. They wouldn't have to suffer. They could bring Smokescreen back.

 _Alive_.

“Where is it?” Knock Out asked quickly.

This was their chance. This was their _only_ chance.

Megatron tapped his own chassis. “Right here.”

Knock Out stared a moment, trying to process Megatron's action. He opened his mouth once, then closed it and raised a finger to his helm, tapping it in confusion. “Sorry, I think I’m reading the gesture wrong, but let me just try and figure this all out. You're saying that _Smokescreen's_ spark is in _your_ spark chamber?"

“If it were anywhere else, it would have died off.

“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around all this- must be the brain damage. How did you do it- _why_ did you do it? You’ve done nothing but torment and torture him. Why would you suddenly have the spark to take on his?”

"Like I said,” Megatron’s voice lacked patience. Somethings never changed. “Being trapped in Unicron’s domain allowed me to clear my mind and realize many of my mistakes. He was the one that took out Smokescreen’s spark and put it in his spark chamber to keep it alive. It was then that I realized just how heavy Smokescreen’s spark was and just what I had done to corrupt a pure spark such as Smokescreen’s. Did you know how bright his spark is? He was born to be a Prime.”

“You ruined him.”

“That’s why I’m going to allow you to take his spark back, even though it will live my body sparkles. This is the last thing I can do for someone I've hurt beyond compare.”

“You don’t deserve redemption.”

“I’m not asking for it.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: someone is going to die by the end of this fic  
> Me: it’s not Smokescreen though  
> Me: *proceeds to kill Smokescreen*  
> Also me: *about to kill Megatron and bring Smokescreen back to life*

Knock Out had reluctantly walked with Megatron toward Smokescreen and the others. He only did it because he thought it was possible for the others to try and kill Megatron before they had a chance to save Smokescreen's spark.

"Why'd you bring him here?" Bulkhead asked angrily. "We liked him far away from us."

"Where's Ratchet?" Knock Out went straight to Shockwave and Optimus, ignoring the others.

"Knock Out, what is going on?" Optimus asked, sensing Knock Out's urgency and determination.

"There is a chance to save Smokescreen," Knock Out explained hastily. "His..." Knock Out trailed off, a servo going up to his helm and tapping it, trying to grasp at what he was going to say. Grasping like it was a memory long gone. Grasping because _it was_ a memory long gone. "Huh-" His servo fell back to his side. "- it's gone. We talked about it just moments ago. Why can't I remember that?"

"Processor damage, remember," Shockwave replied.

"Actually, I don't remember, but yes, that would make sense," Knock Out nodded, like he was suddenly recalling it all. "Unicron did it... Right... And to save Smokescreen- a spark transplant, courtesy of Megatron. Right? I think that's right."

"Correct," Megatron confirmed. "I am currently housing Smokescreen's spark. As long as it remains alive, we will be able to return it to Smokescreen and give him life once more."

"Megatron..." Optimus kept his face straight, but there was a hidden sense of pride in his voice.

"I'm doing this for forgiveness," Megatron clarified. "I am only returning what I destroyed in the first place to its proper form."

“Regardless of whether you are doing this because you are trying to make do and fix your wrongs or whether there is more to your reasoning, your action is appreciated and I am boundlessly grateful for the willingness, you have shown in helping Smokescreen, ” Optimus said, his gratitude sounding completely genuine.

How Prime like.

“Do not say that,” Megatron stared directly at Optimus. “Do not say that like what I have done before is all forgiven. Do not say that like I was not the one that caused this all in the first place. As I said before, I had time to think. During that time, I realized that nothing I have done is worth forgiveness and definitely not worth gratitude. Do not try and give it to me.”

That had stunned Optimus into silence more than Megatron wanting to save Smokescreen had.

He really did change. Through death came clarity.

“That’s why we need Ratchet,” Knock Out said. “He can perform the spark transplant and save Smokescreen.”

There was a rumble of an engine behind them and the appearance of the one and only miracle doctor himself.

“Call his name and he shall arrive, ” Knock Out waves a hand at Ratchet and turns to him in amusement.

Ratchet’s gaze linger on Smokescreen and his walk slowed. His optics lowered and everyone caught a glimpse of the sorrow he allowed to fill them. But he walked on and went straight to Optimus instead of lingering on the sight of another addition to their sea of dead.

“How much have you hurt yourself this time, Knock Out?” Ratchet asked, keeping his voice clear of any mournful tones.

“Some more memory issues,” Knock Out answered as if it wasn’t a debilitating issue. “Among other damages, but it’s not what is most important right now.”

“Again?” Ratchet sighed. “But what is it that’s more important than brain damage?”

”We can save Smokescreen,” Shockwave answered this time.”

”We hope, at least,” Knock Out added like it was his duty to be the pessimistic bearer of bad news.

”If I’m going to be doing a spark transplant, it definitely can’t be in the middle of the open,” Ratchet replied. “Carefully take Smokescreen to the med bay of the nemesis and help me prepare both him and Megatron for the transfer. This is a very difficult process and will need to be done meticulously.”

”Of course,” Optimus bowed his head slightly. “I put my trust in you, old friend.”

~~~~~~~~~

Medical procedures are a long process. From basic welding or patching to processor and spark operations, it can take a while.

Doctors are careful. They don’t mess up. They take their time to ensure that even the most simple actions are done with perfection.

But there are two things doctors can’t do.

One: They care for their patients and do everything in their power to ensure that their patients live.

And two: They can’t bring people back to life.

Not Ratchet, the miracle doctor that can perform any surgery and every operation without fail, because medicine is not a miracle. Not Shockwave, the scientist that can has the ability to clone long dead creatures, because cloning is not living.

And because the only person that can bring people back to life is Unicron, it’s a damn good thing that Smokescreen isn’t _technically_ dead. Yet.

“This will kill you,” Ratchet said to Megatron, raised his digits just inches away from Megatron- Smokescreen’s spark.

“I never should have gotten a second life,” Megatron replied. “I won’t miss it.”

Knock Out was on standby on the other side of the med bay. Ratchet insisted upon having another doctor in the room, despite the fact that Knock Out forgot why they were in the med bay to begin with.

Ratchet was definitely going to fix that problem as soon as bringing Smokescreen back either succeeded or failed.

There were only two outcomes to this and Ratchet had his bets placed on the latter.

Doctors can’t bring people back to life.

Medicine is based on science and reality, anatomy and resilience, not necromancy and hope.

Doctors can’t bring people back to life.

Life is the aspect of existence that processes, acts, reacts, evaluates, and evolves through growth.

Death is the irreversible cessation of all vital functions especially as indicated by permanent stoppage of the heart, respiration, and brain activity. The end of life.

Once someone does, there is no bringing them back to life.

Megatron seems to be the one exception, seeing as he was brought back by Unicron and still lives after the demise of the same.

Smokescreen is dead, but his spark still lives.

Is it possible to bring someone that is not _really_ dead back to life? Is it possible for a living spark to raise the dead? Is it possible that being dead doesn’t always mean you have to stay dead?

“Just wanted to be sure,” Ratchet muttered before he gently snuck his servos underneath the spark.

It wasn’t connected to anything, but it glowed warm and bright. It was strong but small, powerful but broken.

The moment Ratchet started removing it, Megatron started to fall, lights going out and optics dimming.

He wouldn't be missed. No one would mourn him. No one would care. No one would even acknowledge that he gave up his second chance at life for the one he destroyed without hesitation.

He said he wasn’t seeking redemption. He said he didn't want forgiveness. He said he was just returning what he stole. Fixing what he broke. Paying what he owed.

Ratchet was careful with the spark, moving slowly and not letting the sound of Megatron’s frame collapsing distract him from losing focus on the more important task.

Is it possible for Ratchet, the miracle doctor that doesn’t believe in miracles, to bring someone back from the dead?

There’s no way to tell without trying.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me saying this fic won’t be as long as the first: it’ll be short lol  
> This fix already being longer than the first:  
> Me:  
> Me: well i fucked up somewhere

Knock Out was eventually ordered out of the room by Ratchet because of his constant hovering that nearly made Ratchet lose his focus.

He was trying to neatly reattach a spark that had been not so neatly removed in the first place. Smokescreen’s body had been burnt to a crisp and there were barely any wires or nerves or anything to work with. He needed to focus and Knock Out wasn’t helping.

There was not a moment of hesitation in Knock Out’s response to Ratchet kicking him out. He left like a new recruit following orders from a superior officer.

Knock Out always listened to Ratchet because of the strange Predacon respect and chain of command phenomenon that Predaking had explained quickly in the hall while they tried to figure out what to do with the out of control Knock Out practically dying in the hallway.

Ratchet still didn’t like that Knock Out was nearly forced to obey his every command, but there was nothing he could do about a Predacon’s hierarchy.

But even then, Knock Out usually fought against Ratchet’s orders in an attempt to try and let out his thoughts and feelings and give input as to why this wasn’t such a great idea or what they could do better.

But Knock Out didn’t have any feelings to let out. He had no reason to fight Ratchet and only the sense to follow him blindly.

Knock Out appeared worried and anxious, but it was all reflex, instinct, and memory. Knock Out remembers being worried about Smokescreen in the past, so he tried his best to imitate that worry. He’s always had a tendency to pace in stressful situations, even if he wasn’t the one feeling the stress, he still seemed able to sense it.

Knock Out was just putting on a big act, whether it was half purposeful and calculated actions to keep up a front or half unconscious reflexes that he continued now because he was so used to them, it made no difference. He tried to act the same, but he wasn’t. Nothing can change the fact that he is missing one of the most crucial parts of his personality. Nothing can change the fact that while he tries to act the same, he is very different than before.

Without his emotions, Knock Out makes decisions based on the past and how he _felt_ in the past. When Knock Out still had his emotions, he made decisions on the future and how he would _feel_ in the future 

He was a completely different person, decision wise, that is.

But at least he wasn’t hovering anymore. It gave Ratchet room to think and time to breath- room to breath and time to think.

He was trying to put a living spark into a long-dead body. Smokescreen was just a husk. There was nothing to attach the spark to. No way to bring Smokescreen back.

They needed a new body. _Smokescreen_ needed a new body.

They needed it now. They needed it because this spark sure as the Pit wasn’t going back into Smokescreen’s old body. They needed it now because Ratchet isn’t exactly sure how long he can keep a dying spark alive out of a proper spark chamber.

“Knock Out, can you send Shockwave in here?” Ratchet called over his comm. “We might have a slight issue.”

**“He’s on his way.”**

“Thanks.” Ratchet carefully handled Smokescreen’s spark in his servos, trying to figure it how he was going to be able to do this. He had one idea that wouldn’t require the building of a completely new body for Smokescreen. “Actually, call in Optimus as well.”

There was a bit of silence on the other line, most likely from Knock Out trying to figure out what Optimus’ role in this operation was going to be.

**“He’s on his way as well. Although I must say, I’m not quite sure I understand the purpose of it. He’s not much of a medic.”**

“No... but he is a Prime. A Prime that has an heir.”

 **“The Matrix...”** Knock Out muttered, almost inaudible.

“If Optimus is ready to give it up. And if he thinks Smokescreen is ready to take on that kind of responsibility.”

There was more silence on the other end, although this time it was probably caused by Knock Out forget ng this wasn’t an in-person conversation and nodding his head before realizing his mistake.

**“I think Smokescreen’s ready.”**

“I know you do, but it’s also not your decision to make. It’s not even Optimus’ decision, really. The Matrix will be the one that truly decided if Smokescreen is worthy.”

There was a knock on the door and Ratchet dismissed the commlink, not wishing to be distracted by Knock Out’s emotionless, but emotional rants.

Yes, they needed to save Smokescreen. Yes, they needed the Matrix to accept Smokescreen. Yes, that was their only way to save him without having to build a completely new body and possibly risk losing the spark or all of Smokescreen’s memories.

There was no way to transfer Smokescreen’s memories or processor in general with the amount of damage it sustained. Smokescreen’s body was put beyond repair. It was either the Matrix or a completely new person that just happened to have Smokescreen’s spark.

“Shockwave,” announced the voice at the door.

“Come in,” Ratchet replied, once again trying to figure out where to place Smokescreen’s spark because he couldn’t keep holding it forever it the thing was too fragile to just place on a table.

And it was so warm. It was so warm and so bright and Ratchet sort of just _wanted_ to keep holding it forever. It was small, which made Ratchet want to protect it. It was weak, which made Ratchet want to hold it closer to his own spark in order to give it more life.

“I do sincerely hope that you have a solution for reviving Smokescreen in mind,” Shockwave said as he stepped into the med bay and approached Ratchet. “Knock Out continues to pace across the bridge and it has started to become quite bothersome. It does not help that all the others are doing the same.”

“I must remind you that I'm a doctor, not a necrobot,” Ratchet looked up at Shockwave, who only had his single optic trained on the spark in Ratchet’s servos. “This is not where my specialties lie.”

“I was under the impression that you have performed a spark transfusion before.”

“I _have,_ but they were still alive when I did it. Even if Smokescreen had died from an injury or having his spark ripped out, I probably could have done it. But Smokescreen’s been burnt so bad that there’s nothing to attach his spark to. I’m not even sure if just putting the spark back in will save Smokescreen. Yes, he’ll technically be considered alive, but his processor is so fried that he’d be left in a coma for the rest of his life.”

“I am beginning to see the problem,” Shockwave states, taking his own look at Smokescreen’s destroyed, well, _everything._

“Our options are saving him by creating an entirely new frame and somehow transferring his data to that body or-”

Another knock at the door, then Optimus walked in.

“We give him the Matrix,” Shockwave finished Ratchet’s thought.

“If the Mattix accepts him,” Ratchet replied.

“It will,” Optimus said, catching on quickly to their conversation. “It’s shown itself to him before. I will be fine parting with it. It is time for me to step down and a new Prime to rise up in this time of peace. Smokescreen will learn and make an excellent Prime.”

“That’s a relief,” Ratchet sighed. “At last we know we’ll be able to save him and his memories.”

“There is one problem,” Optimus said before Ratchet’s hopes could get up too much.

“What now?”

“In order to seal away Unicron, I had to hide the All Spark in my own spark chamber.”

“That is, undoubtedly, an issue,” Shockwave agreed.

“Is the All Spark fused with your spark or the Matrix?” Ratchet asked.

“I believe just to my spark, but I am not certain,” Optimus shook his head. “It could have already taken a hold of the Matrix as well. But if it has, I should be able to disconnect it without any damage to either All Spark or Matrix.”

“And how about yourself?” Ratchet stared at Optimus, knowing that there was more to this than Optimus was letting on. “How will disconnecting affect you?”

“The All Spark is part of me now,” Optimus began. “I cannot remove it from my spark chamber. It cannot be returned unless we make a sacrifice. Removing the Matrix will ensure the future of Cybertron and the future of Smokescreen. Any damage I sustain will be worth nothing in the end regardless.”

“Wait a minute,” Ratchet wanted to hold up his hands, but he remembered the spark in his hands. He really couldn’t keep holding it forever. “What are you trying to say? It better not be what I think it is.”

“My life for all of Cybertron,” Optimus remarked. “It’s not even a contest.”

“You don’t seem to understand my job description.”

“Ratchet...”

“No. Listen to me. I’m a doctor. I keep people from dying. You aren’t dying on my watch.”

“This is for Cybertron, Ratchet. I must do this.”

“Shockwave,” Ratchet held out the spark in his hands to Shockwave. “Hold this a moment.”

Ah, Ratchet I-” Shockwave didn’t have the time to protest before the spark was placed in his single servo and he was left to cradle it, which he did with a surprising amount of care.

With his hands free, Ratchet walked up to Optimus furiously and placed a digit right above his spark chamber.

“You can give up this Matrix to Smokescreen. That’s fine. But what you can’t do is abandon him. When he wakes up as Prime and you’re dead, who’s going to train him to lead? Who’s going to teach him? Who’s going to support him with the new weight on his shoulders? Apparently not the _actual_ Prime.”

“He will learn, as I did.”

“He doesn’t need mastery, he needs _help._ ”

Optimus stood there silently. He knew this was true. He knew he should help Smokescreen. But he also knew he needed to save Cybertron. He was now the very key to returning proper life to their planet. He couldn’t prolong his sacrifice. Even if he didn’t do it now, it would eventually come time for him to die for everyone else.

“Cybertron‘s waited millions already, it can wait one more. But Smokescreen? If we don’t help him now, he’ll never survive as a Prime. You know what giving him this responsibility will do to him. It will crush him. He’ll fall apart. Look at him-” Ratchet motioned to Smokescreen’s burnt corpse. “-he’s already falling apart. His spark-” He pointed at the spark being held gently in Shockwave’s hand. “-it’s already so dim and weak. It’s been broken so many times: by Megatron, by us, by himself. Don’t break it any further.”

Optimus’ gaze is soft, his own work feeling like it’s being torn apart because this is _Smokescreen_. This is _his_ Smokescreen. _His_ Autobot. Smokescreen is one of his own. Smokescreen was important to him- to everyone.

Was he going to let a selfish selfless decision drag Smokescreen down into a place he would never be able to claw his way out of? Was he going to let Smokescreen shatter? Was he going to let this happen to one of _his_ Autobots?

Cybertron could wait, it’s waited this long already.

“I could never,” Optimus admitted.

“Good,” Ratchet smiled, finally removing his finger from Optimus’ chest. “Then, pardon my language, get your aft over here so we can take that Matrix out and give it to Smokescreen before his spark dies due to outside exposure.”

"It is not necessarily a medical process," Optimus said, but he walked over anyway. "The Matrix is given to the next Prime through the previous one or a designated official."

"We don't really have time for any ceremony," Ratchet pointed out. He waved over Shockwave, who brought the spark carefully to Smokescreen's side. "It won't be very professional on our parts either, though. I'm not entirely sure how to do this, seeing as I've never done anything like it before."

"I figure we place his spark where it should go, then place the Matrix with it," Shockwave suggested. "Or we place the spark in the Matrix and given it to Smokescreen then."

"The latter," Optimus said. "If the spark is not connected to anything, then it would be better to connect it to the Matrix. That will ensure that Smokescreen is brought back, not just his body."

"Understood," Ratchet nodded, then he held out a hand in Optimus' direction. "Then if you would be so kind..."

He trailed off as Optimus' chest plates began to shift and clank, pulling apart to reveal a bright blue light closed in a gold casing. There was an even brighter glow behind the Matrix itself. Whether that was the All Spark or Optimus' spark, Ratchet didn't know, but the heat and light of the Matrix felt just like holding Smokescreen's spark, but ten times greater.

The spark in Shockwave's hand then began to brighten, likely in response to the Matrix being revealed. Truly the spark of a Prime: predetermined by Primus himself. Smokescreen was always born for greatness. It was his destiny, just like he had boasted on about at every opportunity. Smokescreen was destined for a grand future, just like he was destined to face failure and loss.

Optimus took the Matrix from his chassis. It seemed so easy, despite Optimus saying that he would feel some effects from it. It glowed as it was brought closer to Smokescreen's spark, blue tendrils of light and energon splaying off of it and reaching out for the smaller and weaker spark.

Optimus held the Matrix in one hand, then reached toward Shockwave with the other. "His spark," he demanded softly.

Shockwave was cautious as he moved the spark into Optimus' hold. Who would have thought that a ruthless and emotionless Decepticon with a gun for an arm and an eye for a face could be so gentle with something so small?

Now that the spark and Matrix were in such close proximity, they seemed to float out of Optimus' hand and closer to each other, filling the room with such a blinding light that it became near impossible to even see what was going on.

At one point, they converged and the light started to fade, the Matrix starting to slowly lower itself directly into Smokescreen's blown open chassis.

It settled, then even more light filled the room, this time, it encased Smokescreen's entire frame with brilliant white. His frame contorted and stretched, seeming to fix itself and return to its proper form.

"In... incredible..." Shockwave commented absently, admiring the display of bright lights.

Ratchet found himself smiling as the warmth of the Matrix enveloped him once again.

It was working. It was working.

"It's working," Ratchet found himself saying. Joy thrummed through his frame. He found a happy half-laugh fall from his mouth. "Ha! It's working!"

This was really happening. Smokescreen was really going to be alright.

_Smokescreen was alive._


	53. Chapter 53

Optimus’ chest felt light. A burden he carried for so long was gone. He was free of the Matrix. He was free of being looked up to being forced to lead.

He would have been happy as an archivist. He would have been happy never seeing the face of war or holding the cold hand of death.

His life would have been easier and he would have enjoyed it much more. He would have enjoyed and relished in every, silent second of his life

And now the weight was gone. He was free again. He was happy- _truly_ happy- again.

It has was all too strange.

He felt empty. He felt weak- powerless. He felt like if he said something, no one would listen. He felt like losing the Matrix of Leadership would cause _him_ to lose leadership.

But the lightness in his chest felt comforting- calming.

_Free. Free at last._

A new Prime rising and the old one stepping down. They didn't need a war general anymore, they needed a guide in these new times of peace.

Smokescreen had only ever known peace. He fought, but he only scraped the surface of what actual war looked like. But he’s been hurt, which only makes him stronger. He’s been broken, which only makes him wiser.

He’ll make a might fine Prime. Optimus just wished he could live long enough to see it all.

He could put it off to help Smokescreen, but the time for him to sacrifice his life for the rest of Cybertron would come.

The light died down and revealed Smokescreen’s frame, restored to perfection, not a scrape or scar in sight.

It made no major changes to Smokescreen’s frame, as it did for Optimus and the Primes before, but it spent the majority of its power returning his frame to normal.

Ratchet was quick to check Smokescreen’s vital signs, ensuring that they were constant.

“Spark pulses normal, processor activity occurring, energon pressure leveling out,” Ratchet muttered in excitement. “I don’t believe in miracles, but by Primus, this is a miracle.”

“Should we call in Knock Out or wait until Smokescreen wakes up and surprise them?” Shockwave asked.

“Wait,” Ratchet answered easily. “Knock Out and the others will rush in here and overwhelm the kid before he’s even on his pedes.”

“If he is going to be alright, then I will be taking my leave,” Optimus said as he made his way to the door.

“Thank you, Optimus Prime,” Ratchet said before the former Prime could leave the room. “Thank you.”

Ratchet’s word choice was made deliberately. It was made to remind Optimus that losing the Matrix did nothing to his status or virtue. He was still their Prime, even if wasn’t officially a Prime. He was still their leader, even with nothing to declare him so. They had already followed him so far that they would continue to do so, even if he was just Orion Pax again. They’d follow him until the fated day he had to give up his life for all others.

Optimus nodded, then left the room silently to leave the doctors to finish their work.

~~~~~

Smokescreen's chest felt heavy. He blearily blinked his optics online just to be sure that his chassis wasn't being crushed by someone or something.

He stared up at bright lights, but a dark room. He turned his head to the side. More dark walls and dark corners. Dark tables and dark machines.

It looked just like... the _Nemesis._

Smokescreen jerked up, surprised to find himself not chained to the table. He gasped for air as he looked around furiously, looking for Megatron or Knock Out or Soundwave or some other Decepticon that was going to be his interrogator slash torturer.

He left the base after that argument with Arcee. Soundwave caught him by surprise. He got knocked out. He was on the _Nemesis._ They got him. The Decepticons got him. They got him and now they were going to pick apart his brain, then they were going to kill him and-

"Smokescreen, calm down!"

Two hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back down to the berth. The voice was strong but careful and gentle.

Smokescreen honed in on the voice and the frame in front of him. White and orange. Medic colors. Blue optics. Autobot. _Ratchet?_

"Ratchet?"

"Right here kid," one of Ratchet's hands went up to the side of Smokescreen's face, holding it in support and comfort. "You're finally awake. How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

"Ratchet?" Smokescreen asked again, trying to sit up once more, but he winced this time, putting a hand to his chest and pressing against it. "Ow... What? What's happening? Why are you here? Don't... don't tell me they got you too."

Ratchet stared back at Smokescreen for a moment, confused as to what he was talking about. "I'll... explain it all later. You come first. You said 'ow.' Is your chest in pain?"

"It's more... uncomfortable..." Smokescreen answered. "It's not quite my chest or chassis. It's my spark. It feels heavy. What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Ratchet asked. "I'll start explaining there."

"The fight," Smokescreen began. "The fight with Arcee. I messed up and she got upset. I left and... Soundwave found me. He took me back here, I think."

Ratchet didn't say anything, looked over across the room. Smokescreen followed it, only to find himself horrified at the sight of a large purple frame, although damaged, and a single, red optic, although cracked.

Shockwave. _Shockwave!_

Smokescreen found himself shifting backward, trying to hide himself behind Ratchet as if putting himself between an old medic and a mad scientist would do anything. Shockwave was smart. Shockwave was powerful. Even injured.

Not to mention that he thought Shockwave was dead. _Everyone_ thought Shockwave was dead. What was he doing here? _Why_ was he here? _How_ was he here?

"Ratchet, he appears to be showing signs of Psychological Memory Loss," Shockwave spoke.

Smokescreen had never actually heard him, or seen him, before, but his voice, as low and monotone as it was, was equal parts terrifying, intimidating, and strangely soothing.

"I've noticed," Ratchet nodded.

"Why..." Smokescreen found himself choking on his own words out of fear.

Shockwave was _right_ there.

But Ratchet didn't seem to be worried about it. He actually seemed to be getting _along_ with Shockwave. More than that, they seemed to be working _together._

Now, Smokescreen had heard that Shockwave wasn't the most loyal Decepticon, obeying logic more than Megatron, but he was still utterly confused. What, exactly, was going on?

"If the last thing you remember is being taken in the first place, then we have a to explain to you, it would seem," Ratchet said, drawing Smokescreen's attention away from Shockwave.

"Can you start with the easy stuff?" Smokescreen asked, trying to compose himself after his mini spark attack at the sight of Shockwave. "The important stuff?"

"I do think we should start with the most important and prominent issue," Shockwave suggested, finally stepping out of his corner and closer to the others.

Smokescreen flinched unconsciously.

Shockwave was quick to stop his approach after that, which surprised Smokescreen more than anything, just as much as it humiliated him.

He wasn't easy to startle, sure, he was scared because he was in the same room as _Shockwave,_ but he certainly felt like he shouldn't be _this_ scared.

"And that would be...?" Smokescreen patiently waited for the answer, although he desperately wanted to know.

Ratchet and Shockwave would _never_ work together, willing, at least, unless there was something bigger going on.

"Not too long ago..." Ratchet spoke slow and hesitantly like he was almost afraid to tell Smokescreen what he missed.

Could something _that_ bad have happened?

"Actually," Ratchet changed his mind. "I'm going to start earlier. Let's start with your last memory. You-" Ratchet pointed at Smokescreen like it wasn't obvious that they were talking to him. "-were taken by Soundwave to the Decepticons because, as it turned out, _you_ were holding the last Omega Key."

Smokescreen had opened his mouth, but Ratchet continued before he could express his disbelief and confusion.

"Megatron took the key and tried to torture you for information. Knock Out ended up saving you and the Omega Keys from Megatron's hands. After some time and proving himself, he ended up joining the Autobots, officially. Our ranks have grown as well. Wheeljack's decided to stick around. Ultra Magnus arrived from off-world. Dreadwing and Predaking have fallen away from the Decepticons as well, and although they haven't taken upon the Autobot title, they are just as much Autobots as the rest of us."

"Predaking?" Smokescreen asked.

That was a name he had never heard before, but a name that sounded awfully close to the term Predacon. Was it possible that Predaking was a Predacon? A member of the fallen and forgotten race that Smokescreen only learned about through the many datapads and books kept at Iacon?

"You'll meet him," Ratchet said, shortening his explanation significantly. "Anyway, Bumblebee killed Megatron and got his voice back."

"That was sudden," Smokescreen commented. "No build-up. Just straight to the point."

"I'm trying not to give a speech," Ratchet replied with hints of annoyance and sleep deprivation in the way he breathed out with each word. "Megatron died, Knock Out became a Predacon, Flat Line showed up, the Decepticons fell, and Cybertron was restored. Not in that particular order."

"That's... a lot to take in..."

"I can imagine. It was a lot for me and I was there through it all."

"But I take it we're on Cybertron now, then?"

"Yes," Ratchet confirmed. "We just defeated Unicron and-"

Whatever Ratchet was saying was already blocked out of Smokescreen's hearing as the name Ratchet just spoke reverberated in Smokescreen's skull.

Unicron?

Smokescreen had heard stories of Unicron. He knew who Unicron was. He'd heard the name before.

But he wasn't just remembering those stories. He was remembering snippets of memories. _His_ memories. Bad ones.

Unicron. Unicron. Unicron. _Unicron._

Pain. Anger. Hate. Fear.

He was alone. He was afraid. He was hurting. Unicron was going to hurt him. Unicron was going to kill him.

He had to run. He had to obey. He had to run. He had to obey.

Get out. Get out. Get out. _Get out._

"Smokescreen?"

Ignoring the protest of discomfort in his spark, Smokescreen jumped off the berth and ran toward the door.

He heard his name being called after him, but he wasn't stopping. He had transformed and it was too late. He was speeding down the hallways with only one thing on his mind.

_Get out._

He felt himself making turns through the ship like he had done it thousands of times before. He didn't know where he was going, but his instincts did. They knew how to get off this ship, so when they said turn right, he turned right.

_Get out._

He couldn't stay on this ship. Things happened here. _Bad_ things happened here. Bad things that he was starting to remember. Bad things that he didn't _want_ to remember.

_**Get out.** _


	54. Chapter 54

There were two things Smokescreen knew he was never going to have in life.

First: He was never going to be powerful. He was a rookie with little to no combat training. He was impulsive and reckless and didn't think things through. He had no experience and could never hold that type of power. Especially now that the war was over. He was never going to be able to learn without anything to learn from.

Second: He was never going to be a Prime. He could dream, but it was never going to happen. Even if- _if_ he somehow was given the opportunity to become Prime, or Optimus, for whatever reason, offered the Matrix to Smokescreen, he would probably refuse. Being a Prime would be too much and he would never be prepared to take on that much responsibility.

There was only one that Smokescreen knew was going to remain constant the rest of his life: He was going to be Smokescreen. _Always_.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Just plain old, regular Smokescreen. The rookie with no place to call home and no place to be.

_The rookie._

That was something else he would be for the rest of his life. 3 thousand years in the future and he’ll still just be ‘the rookie.’ 3 million years in the future and he’ll still just be ‘the rookie.’

But maybe that’s all he deserved to be.

He’s done nothing his whole life. He never led a big attack. He never got awarded for a grand victory. He never even left Alpha Trion’s side.

There was nothing wrong with Alpha Trion. He was an incredible bot. Smokescreen learned a lot from him. He had learned about history and events he’d never even heard of before. He learned about artifacts and relics and how they came to be and what they do.

Then there was Iacon itself. It was large and lit up. It looked magnificent in the dark illuminated with brilliant blues. But even prettier than the outside of Iacon was the inside. The hallways were dark, but each row of shelves was marked by dim lights making it possible to just barely see the contents on them. Although it darkened them significantly, it made the halls so much more peaceful and gave them a specific feel.

He liked to roam the halls alone when Alpha Trion was busy and kicked him out because he kept talking and distracting him. He liked to roam the halls alone when he needed time to think and time to himself. He had always acted as if he hated Iacon, but the place was just so calming that it would be impossible to hate. There was just something about being surrounded by history itself that Smokescreen found gave him a strange sense of clarity in his own life.

And perhaps it was that desire to feel clarity once again that drove him to make his way to the once-grand city of Iacon.

He immediately recognized it, even in old ruins. He found the archive building, even through destroyed streets. He slowed down as he drove through Iacon, carefully observing where buildings had once stood and people once walked.

It was even more peaceful while completely empty.

Seeing the grandiose city fallen was saddening. Iacon was the last city to succumb to the Decepticon's reign of destruction. Smokescreen was deep within the archives and had never caught a glimpse of the surface at the time, but this wasn't how he pictured Iacon would look after all this time.

He should have expected this. He should have known that there was no way Iacon was just as perfect as it all those years ago. He should have known that as he, and Alpha Trion, fell, the final wall was destroyed. The final stick was snapped. The last line of defense- the last thing standing in the way of the Decepticons and total domination- was no more.

Smokescreen made his way past bent gates and missing doors, entering what was considered the very heart of Iacon. The Hall of Records.

An instant rush of nostalgia and calm filled Smokescreen as he made his way deeper into the building. The grim after taste left by the Decepticons and the war was obvious as he looked around. Everything was burnt or broken. Shelves were shoved over and tables were flipped. Half of the lights were broken, but some of them still seemed to work, lighting up as Smokescreen walked by, once again giving Smokescreen deja vu of the countless times he walked through these halls alone or at Alpha Trion's side.

The one thing that Smokescreen was currently most grateful for was the fact that he hadn't found any abandoned bodies yet. He figured that the Autobots would have scoured this place looking for survivors or looking for Alpha Trion's remains. If they had searched the place after the Decepticon attack, then they would have taken everyone out.

Dead or alive.

And as his thoughts continued to wander, trying to piece back together memories of where everything went before it was destroyed and what he had read before it was set aflame. And as he thought upon his old memories, he couldn't help but start thinking of the new ones he had apparently lost.

"Unicron..."

Smokescreen tested the name that had sent his mind reeling and thoughts spinning aloud.

He'd heard it before. It was an old name. An old name that belonged to Primus' supposed 'brother.' They had a falling out in the past. Primus banished Unicron galaxies away and then laid to rest as Cybertron itself, breathing life into all future Cybertronians.

It was a name commonly associated with evil, but Smokescreen had never reacted to it the way he had in the med bay. He's never felt so terrified by just a name. He's never felt so constricted and held down by memories he couldn't remember.

Unicron was something more than a name to Smokescreen. Unicron was something bigger, something _worse_ , than just _a name_ to Smokescreen.

"Unicron..." Smokescreen repeated, finding himself staring up at the vaulted ceilings of the halls. "What did he do? Why can't I remember? Why can't I remember _anything."_

His spark panged suddenly, sending Smokescreen crumpling to the ground in shock at the unannounced pain. He pressed against his chest and closed his optics tightly, hoping that this was just some medical side effect of something Ratchet hadn't explained to him back on the _Nemesis._

It eventually began to subside, making it easier for Smokescreen to start taking in air again. He let out a short sigh before he stood up. He let his breathing settled for a moment longer, then he opened his optics to resume his calming walk.

It was brighter. There were no shelves or vaulted ceilings or halls in sight. The only thing around him seemed to be a blue light that came from everywhere at once. He looked one way and it shined on him. He looked another way and he was still left in its spotlight.

Was this what the end looked like? Did he have a spark attack just then? Did he have some terminal illness that just acted up and killed him?

It all happened so fast. There was no way that was the case. He couldn't be dead. He just woke up, apparently. It was too soon. It was too fast.

"Correct."

A voice boomed behind him, echoing all around, just like the light.

"You are not dead."

"Who?" Smokescreen asked, spinning around to look for the speaker. "Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?"

"I do think introductions are in order," the voice agreed. "And and explanation will help you understand what is going to happen."

"You sure I'm not dead? This sounds like a very death like ordeal."

"I am Prima. You are in the domain of the Primes. The Matrix."

"What?" Smokescreen choked out.

That was definitely not where he was and not where he could ever go.

"Prima? The Matrix? Forgive me, but I don't quite believe all this," Smokescreen shook his head and squeezed his optics shut.

There was a moment of silence before Prima continued.

"Did the previous Prime not explain such things to you?"

"Previous? Sentinal Prime? He's been dead for meegaannum."

"I was not referring to Sentinal Prime. I believe that the one that goes by Optimus Prime was the previous Prime."

"Optimus? There must be some mistake. He's still very much alive and _very_ much Prime."

"But he passed the Matrix on to you, correct?"

"I know I've apparently had some memory issues lately, but I definitely think that I would remember being given the Matrix. Besides, I'm just an inexperienced rookie. I'm not cut out to be a Prime."

"This position may have been placed on your shoulders earlier than most, but the Matrix chooses the next Prime. If you are worthy of being a Prime, whether now or not until the future, the Matrix knows. You are worthy of being Prime. You _are_ Prime."

"Then why don't I remember it?" Smokescreen asked. "Shouldn't I remember something like a Priming ceremony?"

"If I may answer-" A new voice. "-I believe that this new Prime came into being on the rare occasion of being saved by the Matrix."

"I believe Solus Prime is correct." A different voice- deeper than the rest. "We can only conclude that Optimus Prime used the Matrix to save his heir, even if it meant passing on the Primehood too soon."

"I always believed you were capable of greatness." A familiar voice and a comment that was all too personal.

"Alpha Trion?" Smokescreen searched around the open, blue once again, trying to confirm the voice's owner and perhaps see his old mentor once again.

"I am here, Smokescreen."

"You... you..." Smokescreen stumbled over his words, trying to find how to properly ask his questions. "You- what are you- how are you here? I was under the impression that this was... just previous Primes."

"Although it is true that I never held the official title of 'Prime,' I held the Matrix at one point," Alpha Trion answered. "Those of us here are not _just_ Primes. We are Matrix holders. We are your council. We will assist you, along with Optimus, in your transition to Prime."

"As I understand, the war is over," one of the voices from before, Solus Prime, Smokescreen thought he heard the name spoken earlier. "Cybertron will need a new leader during this new time of peace. Optimus Prime is stepping down and you have been chosen to be his successor."

"I don't know what to do," Smokescreen admitted. "I'm not cut out to be a Prime. I can't lead anyone. What do I do?"

It was Prima that spoke up again. "You listen to us, to Optimus Prime, to your people. Then-"

The blue lights started to fade out and the voice of Prima began to grow fainter.

_"-You lead."_


	55. Chapter 55

"I would not worry about this too much," Shockwave said, trying to get Ratchet to stop pacing around the med bay. "He left in such a rush and with an expression that clearly means he needs some time to himself. I would give it to him. He just lost the majority of his memories after he arrived on earth. He just found out he died and was brought back to li-"

"I never got to that part," Ratchet paused his pacing for a moment to reply to Shockwave. "The moment I said Unicron's name, you could tell that something inside him was triggered. He doesn't remember it, but the psychological effects of his multiple captures are still there. He heard Unicron and ran because running was the only thing he could do while he was being held hostage."

"He still needs time to sort his thoughts," Shockwave pointed out. "He is undoubtedly overwhelmed regardless. There is nothing for us to worry about. There is nothing out there that can hurt him. He will be fine on his own."

"I know, I know," Ratchet sighed. "I just can't help but feel anxious every time he's alone because of his past experiences with it. He was alone on the prison ship. He was alone and got taken, more than once. He tried to kill himself. He _did_ get killed. I know I shouldn't be worried, but I can't help it."

"Naturally."

"I want to at least now where he is. I want to be able to tell the others not to worry, but I can't do that when I'm down here pacing because _I'm_ worried. It's easy for you to remain calm and try to calm me down because you weren't attached to Smokescreen. But with me- with the _rest_ of the Autobots- it's a lot harder for us to deal with this sort of thing.”

“Have you tried to contact him?” Shockwave asked. “You might be waiting for him to make the first move, but what if he is the one waiting for _you_ to speak first.”

“But if I call and he _wants_ to be alone-”

“Then he won’t answer your transmission at all.”

“You’re right,” Ratchet nodded. “I need to be the one that acts first, otherwise we might not hear from Smokescreen at all and we’ll never know how he’s feeling and what he’s going through mentally.”

“Glad that you are beginning to think with a level head again.”

“Thank you, Shockwave.”

Shockwave said nothing, turning away from Ratchet without any sign that he heard those last words of gratitude to tend to his own wounds sustained in the fight against Unicron and his army.

And while Shockwave attempted to fix his crushed arm and broken optic with a single hand, Ratchet took a deep breath before he raised a digit to his audio receptor, activating his comm and sending a transmission request to Smokescreen.

Shockwave pretended not to be interested in the result of Ratchet calls, but he still found himself glancing up and watching Ratchet out of the corner of his optic.

Then after a long silence, there was a click, then a voice- quiet and anxious. Clearly, it was Smokescreen and clearly, he was feeling extremely overwhelmed right now.

 **“Uh- sorry Ratchet,”** Smokescreen answered hesitantly and so quietly that his words were almost impossible to hear. **“I- uh- I’m sorry I ran. I'm not exactly sure why I ran in the first place, but you were talking and I just... I just got overwhelmed by it all and even though I didn't know why, my mind told me to run and to get out and to get away. So I did. I know you’re probably mad at me and will yell at me for running and driving even though I’m supposed to be recovery. I’m sorry-”**

“I’m not mad, Smokescreen,” Ratchet replied, keeping his voice calm and level to help Smokescreen become more relaxed himself. “I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you for something like this after all you’ve been through. Even if you don't know why you ran, I do. I could _never_ get mad at you for that.”

**“What I’ve been through?”**

“I’m not sure if it’ll be good for you if I were to explain it all- details and everything- right now... Honestly, it might be best if you never know at all.”

Shockwave was deeply invested in the conversation now and even stood up at Ratchet’s last statement.

Ratchet noticed Shockwave and began to explain his reasoning to someone that would understand it.

“If Smokescreen doesn't remember what happened to him, it can be for one of two reasons. One: Post-Traumatic Amnesia or two: Unicron tampered with his memories.”

“Or both,” Shockwave suggested.

Ratchet nodded silently.

**“Do you think that you could give me a bridge back? I think you explaining this all in person will make more sense.”**

“I’ll send you one right away,” Ratchet replied quickly, already making his way out of the med bay and down the hall, leaving Shockwave to once again try and repair his injuries- without a distraction this time. “What is your location?

**“Iacon. The Hall of Records, to be more exact. What’s left of it, at least.”**

Ratchet should have figured that would be the first place Smokescreen went to. The halls held memories and knowledge to Smokescreen. If he was having trouble remembering, then there was no place more peaceful than the Hall of Records to try and sort out his mind.

“I’ll send the bridge right outside the doors.”

**”Um... Ratchet?”**

“Yes?”

**“Sorry for making all of you worry about me. All this time... I can't imagine how the others are reacting to all this. Sorry if I caused you trouble.”**

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ratchet’s voice had turned stern at that. “You _never_ need to apologize. None of this is your fault. You have _nothing_ to apologize for. Don’t apologize any more, okay?”

There was a pause on Smokescreens end, likely caused by him trying to sort this all out, or by him being caught off guard by Ratchet’s sudden seriousness at just a single word.

 **“I... I won’t.** **Thank you.”**

Ratchet ended the transmission, satisfied in knowing that Smokescreen was doing fine and that he just overwhelmed, as Shockwave had stated earlier. Although there was more than _just_ being overwhelmed.

Nothing too worrying right now, luckily. Just old instincts in Smokescreen’s side kicking in. Old habits making themselves known. Old reflexes built into Smokescreen’s mind coming back subconsciously.

But nothing to worry about right now. Nothing dangerous. Nothing risky. Nothing that they couldn’t fix with some time and therapy, even if Smokescreen didn’t know why he was getting that therapy.

Ratchet made his way to the bridge, hoping that only a few people would be there, meaning that he would only have to explain this whole mess to them. He really hoped that Knock Out wouldn’t be one of those select few either. It could end poorly.

Although, Ratchet wasn’t actually sure of that anymore, seeing as Knock Out lacked his emotional drive. He wouldn’t get upset knowing that Smokescreen was out there alone. He probably wouldn’t do much at all, until he realized that he should be angry and that he should be worried. Then he’d put on a front based on what he thought he should feel and how he thought he should react.

If it was just Dreadwing and Optimus on the bridge, it would be ideal. No one at all would be the best, but Ratchet knew that was next to impossible with his the Autobots likes to stick together in the same places. He could deal with explaining this just to Dreadwing and Optimus. They would be the only ones that could hear the news and actually take it.

But the ideal is rarely how it happens. Instead, ratchet’s got a bridge full of Bumblebee and Bulkhead. Optimus was there as well, so he was halfway to who he wanted to be there.

“Ratchet, how is he?” Optimus was quick to ask.

“He woke up,” Ratchet answered, but going straight to the ground bridge controls. “He lost most of his memory- up until the point where he was kidnapped by Soundwave back on Earth. I was filling him in on everything he missed.”

“And... how has he taken all of it.”

“He’s taking it well,” Ratchet replied. “So well in fact that he ran out of the med bay and drove all the way to Iacon in less than an Earth hour.”

That caught Bulkhead and Bumblebee’s attention more so than the rest of their conversation had.

“Is he alright?” Bumblebee came up to Ratchet urgently.

“Don’t worry, he's fine, just overwhelmed,” Ratchet explained as he entered the coordinates for the Hall of Records into the ground bridge. “I’m giving him a ground bridge back home now.” Ratchet looked to Optimus as he opened the bridge. “Once he comes back, I think you should be the one that explains the most recent event to him. You owe it to him.”

Optimus nodded, understanding what Ratchet was referring to. He did owe Smokescreen an explanation and introduction for that, at least.

As the ground bridge spiraled to life, Ratchet activated his comes once again.

“The bridge’s open,” he said. “We’ll finish off the recap of events where we left off. Plus Bumblebee and Bulkhead are here to see you. Optimus as well. I’ll see you soon.”

**“Thank you. Again. I mean it. I really do.”**


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is another fic nearing its end. We still have a few more chapters, at least, but we're nearing the end of this fic, and likely the series.

Smokescreen took his time walking back to the doors of Iacon, enjoying the empty serenity as long as he could. He wanted Ratchet to know that he was okay, but he didn't want to leave just yet. There were so many more halls he wanted to walk through and rooms he wanted to visit. He wanted to see how much of the original Iacon was still left. He was feeling nostalgic and peaceful. He wanted to keep it that way.

But he knew the others would be worried about him. He knew that they'd be anxiously waiting for him to return so that they could crowd around him and check him for any signs of injury.

He was fine, really. He didn't know why he ran. Ratchet said he did, so Smokescreen was hoping that he could at least gain some clearer answers about what was going on.

He'd also have to pay a visit to Optimus. Giving someone the Matrix without telling them isn't very nice. Optimus didn't even ask if Smokescreen wanted it, which he _didn't._

Prime wasn't his role. He didn't know the first thing about leading. He didn't even know how to go back into the Matrix and talk to the other Primes again. They told him to listen, but he wasn't hearing anything. They told him to lead, but he was still as lost as ever.

He couldn't be _Prime._

He'd never get by. Everyone would hate him. They acted like they cared about him now, but it was all fake. They didn't care about him. If he became Prime, they would throw him out.

He doesn't deserve to be Prime.

Why couldn't Optimus give the Matrix to someone that could actually use it? Why couldn't they have bothered to never save him? Why did he even escape the prison ship, to begin with?

He could have stayed on that ship and be left traveling space at a pace slower than time. He could have made a good friend out of his fellow prisoners. He could have made an even better friend out of K1-1475332. Sure, he'd still be a prisoner, but at least he wouldn't be _a Prime._

He couldn't do this.

Maybe he could just give the Matrix back to Optimus. Maybe he could just get rid of it. It'd be easier that way. Then he could just go back to being Smokescreen. Smokescreen the rookie with reckless ideas that didn't deserve to be called plans. Smokescreen the rookie with nothing but enthusiasm and no sense of self-preservation or risk whatsoever.

He liked being _just_ Smokescreen.

He didn't want to be Smokescreen Prime, or whatever they were planning on calling him now that he's jumped the ranks so drastically.

He didn't _want_ to do this.

Why couldn't they just let him stay dead?

_Dead?_

He wasn't dead. He never died.

There was a flash of a memory in Smokescreen's processor.

_Pain. A shot to the spark. Pain. A hand around his spark. Pain. His spark was gone, ripped out from its very chamber. Pain._

_He was falling now, consciousness fading from his mind as he reached up, hoping something, someone, might be there to catch him. Hoping that this wasn't his end. Hoping that this wasn't it._

_He didn't want to die._

_He was screaming, but nothing came out. He was crying, but there were no tears._

_Pain. Pain. Pain. Fear. Pain. Pain._

_Nothing._

Smokescreen had stopped walking, mind too overwhelmed and frozen.

_What... was that._

Surely, that wasn't _his_ memory. Surely, that wasn't something _he_ went through. Surely, that wasn't _his_ death.

But he watched. He remembered. He _felt._

That was him. He was the one feeling that pain. He was the one dying.

He... _died._

Why couldn't he remember _that?_

Why couldn't he remember anything after he got taken by Soundwave? Ratchet wasn't telling him something. Something important. Something that caused all this. It was the reason for this all. Why wouldn't Ratchet tell him?

Smokescreen had left before Ratchet had finished catching him up, so maybe Ratchet would have told him if he had stayed long enough. If he went back, he could get all the answers he needed.

Deep down inside, there was something more powerful than his need for answers. Stronger than his desire to know what happened. Greater than his urge to discover what Ratchet had left out of his earlier timeline.

Something that told him _not_ to go back. _Not_ to talk to Ratchet. _Not_ to find answers.

He wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t know why he felt it. But it was a severe and sudden feeling of _distrust_ and _doubt._

He didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t like that deep in his gut he didn’t trust Ratchet. He didn’t like that he was doubting his friends and his family.

But it somehow felt right. He felt like he should be doubting them. He felt like he should be cautious of them. He felt like he couldn't trust them, even though he’s done nothing but trust them back on Earth.

It had something to do with that memory... His death...

Was it caused by the Autobots? Were they there and did nothing?

Nothing was making sense to him anymore. These were the people he lived with- he _trusted._ Why was this all so hard? Why couldn’t he just get his memories back and let this all make sense again?

There was a thrilling in his spark, then a voice- either his own or one of the Primes, speaking to him, although it felt more like a sudden thought being put into his head than actual speaking.

_You can._

Memories aren’t simple things. They can’t be picked up like pieces of paper or put back together like pieces of a puzzle. It wasn’t that easy. How could he possibly get long gone memories back?

_They are not gone, just forgotten. To get them back, all you need to do is remember them._

Now a new question arose. How was he supposed to remember something he’s forgotten?

He’d remembered his death. His painful, fiery, death. He doesn’t know how he remembered it. He certainly didn’t _want_ to remember it. It just... happened.

His memories weren’t going to come back if he just sat here though, that’s for sure. He was already out of Iacon and he could see the portal, but his intruding thoughts and sudden recollection of his death had put a halt to his walking and awareness.

If he waited too much longer, everyone would be undoubtedly even more worried about him.

That was one thing he didn’t like. That was one thing he hated. He hated when other people worried. Specifically when they worried about _him_.

People shouldn’t waste their time on him. He was fine. He would continue to be fine without them obsessing over his wellbeing.

He’d have to throw on a bluff to prevent them from worrying. It’s an easy thing to act like your not.

So Smokescreen took in a breath and walked through the bridge, prepared to greet the faces of those waiting for him with the vigor expected of him.

Going through felt different. It felt off. It felt strange. Like it was his first time through the bridge. Like he was going through the bridge with a severe concussion and a bad case of vertigo.

And his spark burned more than it had when he first woke up. It burned more than when the Primes spoke to him.

Then there was the sense of belonging that came with it. It hurt, but Smokescreen _knew_ that it was supposed to go there. He was _supposed_ to have the Matrix. No matter how much he doubted his ability to be a Prime and no matter how much he didn’t want to be a Prime, he knew it was _right._

He talked up his destiny to the others all the time. Maybe that destiny was finally coming true. But know that he was great, he didn't want it anymore. He didn't want power. He didn't want to be destined to lead and unite. He didn't want it.

Too late for that now.

Smokescreen was surprised to find that only Ratchet, Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee were waiting for him and none of them looked extremely worried about him either.

Was he just overthinking it all? Maybe... this wasn't that big of a deal. Sure he had the Matrix, but that didn't mean he was a Prime. It's like Alpha Trion had said. He held the Matrix, but he never was a Prime. It was just a title, after all. He didn't have to be Prime. It wasn't as big as he thought it was. This was easy. He could handle this.

"Sorry, I walked deeper than I thought and it took me longer to get to the bridge," Smokescreen explained, making his way to Ratchet. "And sorry I ran out on you, again. It was a lot to take in and, quite frankly, running seemed like the most logical action at the time."

"Anyone else would have done the same," Ratchet replied. "No need to apologize."

"I've had some time to myself and think I'm ready for answers now," Smokescreen looked up at Optimus. "I have some questions as well. Just for, actually. One: When did I get a new paint job? Two: Why didn't you tell me that I died? Three: Why did you make me Prime? And four: What did you leave out of your explanation earlier?"

"Those... would be better answered elsewhere..." Ratchet's gaze moved to Bumblebee and Bulkhead.

Smokescreen had only felt like there was something missing earlier, but now he _knew_ there was more.

"Back to the med bay, then?" Ratchet sighed.

"No." Smokescreen found the answer leaving his mouth before he could even think about it or try and keep it in. "I don't like the med bay," he decided to continue. "Or the rest of this ship. It makes me feel bad. Something bad happened here."

_Pain._

_Claws tore done Smokescreen's plating._

_More pain._

_He cried. He shouted. He pleaded for it to stop._

_He fell in and out of conscious awareness. His processor tried to block it all out. He tried to power off his optics and hope it would all go away. He tried to move around. He tried to escape, but the hold on him was too strong._

_He couldn't get free. He couldn't get out. He couldn't make it stop._

_Pain. Pain. Everything was in pain._

Smokescreen found himself wincing at another flash of memory.

Why was everything he was remembering so painful?

"Smokescreen?" Ratchet was up in Smokescreen's face, examining him carefully. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Smokescreen picked up his head and the memory disappeared. "I just... remembered something..."

"Something..." Ratchet trailed off, waiting for Smokescreen to finish his thought.

"Pain," Smokescreen continued, voice falling. "There's so, _so_ much _pain._ "


	57. Chapter 57

Ratchet has quick to suggest that they go outside to talk about the details. Smokescreen was equally quick to suggest they go back through the ground bridge and to Iacon.

Smokescreen was comfortable there and it made him remember the good times. Not painful ones.

“We’ll go where ever you want to,” Ratchet complied. “I will also agree that this ship has some nasty ghosts lingering around the halls. It's not good for you. Or any of us. I think it needs to go.”

“We can discuss the ship later,” Optimus interjected. “For now, we will answer Smokescreen’s questions and help him understand what is going on.” Then he turned to Bumblebee and Bulkhead. “You two remain here and keep an optic while we are gone. If any of the others ask, alert them of our position.”

“Roger that,” Bumblebee nodded.

Optimus returned the gesture, then turned for the open ground bridge, walking in after Smokescreen and Ratchet.

When they had all gotten through, the torn down gates of the Hall of Records greeted them. The air was colder here. And fresher. It didn’t smell of smoke and fire like the Well did after the fight with the undead Predacons.

The _Nemesis_ was quiet, but Iacon was somehow quieter, filled with a different kind of silence.

Smokescreen’s hand covered his spark, breathing in deep and slow as his optics were shut tight. With another breath, his hand fell and his optics opened, admiring the beauty of the Hall of Records for the second time that day.

“It has been too long since I have stood at these doors,” Optimus said longingly.

“The halls help me clear my head,” Smokescreen replied. “It helps me think. And talk with Primes too, apparently.” Smokescreen turned pointedly at Optimus. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“We didn't have the time to explaining everything to you before you ran out on us,” Ratchet pointed out.

“That’s fair enough,” Smokescreen weighed. “But you didn’t think that the most important information would be more pressing?”

“And you didn’t think how you’d be able to handle all that first with no build-up?” Ratchet countered. “You bolted the moment you heard Unicron’s name. You don’t even remember what he did. You think you could have handled _all_ that information?”

“I think I would have dealt with it like I always do.”

“Like you always do? You mean throwing on a fake smile and acting like it’s all okay? Because as far as I’m concerned, _that_ is how you ‘deal with things.’”

“How do you expect me to deal with it?” Smokescreen was near shouting at this point. “I spent a few centuries as a prisoner on a Decepticon ship- in solitary, for a lot of it. I met people that are dead by now. I went through torture there and I've apparently gone through it here too. I’ve ‘dealt’ with it just fine before. I can do it again.”

“But what you’re doing is not _healthy,_ ” Ratchet had raised his voice as well at this point. “If you just lock it all away all the time, then you’ll never actually _deal_ with it. Let us help you. Let _me_ help you.”

“Help? Funny thing about you, and everyone else, for that matter, helping _me,_ is the fact that it’s all your fault to begin with.”

That shut Ratchet up quick.

“I’m a kid!” Smokescreen kept on going. “Yet you still treated me like an adult! When I screwed up, you didn’t help me learn from my mistake. You didn’t teach me what I did wrong. You all yelled at me and scoffed at me because I did something I _didn’t know_ I wasn’t supposed to do. If you had just helped me learn instead of arguing and yelling, I wouldn’t have left the base. Soundwave wouldn’t have found me. Megatron wouldn’t have decided that he wanted me as a little plaything to entertain himself and see how far I could go before I snapped.”

Smokescreen’s spark stung more with each word, but over the rush of pain and emotions and thoughts that he swore weren’t his own and memories he swore he didn’t have, he didn’t even notice how much it was burning.

“And eventually _I did._ I was going to join Megatron. Did you know that? He offered me a place amongst the Decepticons and I was going to accept because I thought ‘how much worse could it be than working with people that don’t care about you?’ And _none_ of you _ever_ did! Otherwise, you _would_ have been there. You _would_ have helped me. You would have been there before my mind came crashing down on itself and tore me limb from limb.”

Ratchet had finally found his voice. “Ratchet, I-”

“You’re _what?_ You’re sorry? You’re sorry you didn’t help me? You’re sorry you never even _tried?_ Do you know how much I _wanted_ to believe that you were going to come to save me? I _tried_ to keep thinking that you were looking for me. I _thought_ you were coming to help. But you _never did.”_

“Smokescreen,” Optimus stepped forward now, trying to halt the arguing.

“And _you_!” Smokescreen pointed accordingly at Optimus. “Did you not think about how _I_ would feel before you decided to throw the Matrix at me?”

_Stop._

The warning came from his spark. Smokescreen knew it was the Primes talking. He knew it was their warning. The first and last.

He didn’t listen.

“I never wanted to be Prime! I don’t care what you say about me being ‘worthy’ or ‘destined’ for this! I’m _not_ worthy! This _isn’t_ my destiny! This is-”

**_Enough._ **

Smokescreen’s spark felt like it burst into flames. Pain engulfed him and he fell to his knees, clutching at his chassis. He gasped in breaths, trying to keep himself from what he knew was inevitably going to turn into nausea and a possible blackout.

His vision turned white and his frame began to feel light. In front of him stood a glistening white frame, lit with blue bio lights and a large sword held in front of him.

 **“This is not how a Prime is to act,”** Prima boomed.

“I don’t want to be a Prime,” Smokescreen tried to reason. “I never asked for this. I don’t want this.”

**“This is not your decision to make. It is the decision of the Matrix. It is the will and destiny of the Primes.”**

“I don’t care about any of that destiny crap anymore. I’m talking about things I don’t even remember. I can only remember pain and suffering. I only feel guilt and despair. It’s all my fault. If I wasn’t so weak, I’d never have to deal with it. But if they had saved me. If they were there. If they had even bothered to care...”

**“You hold these sentiments in your spark. You will not let go of them. This is not the way of the Prime.”**

“I don’t want this.”

**“Not many Primes do.”**

“So why can’t I just give it up then? Why can’t I pass the Matrix to someone else? Or better yet, why can’t I just give it back to Optimus?”

**“Because that is not the will of the Matrix.”**

“What about me? Does the Matrix care about my will? Does it care about my life or what I’ve been through or what I’m currently going through? Does it care about the fact that I am not ready? Does it care that I don’t want this?”

**"You will learn. You learn to let go. You will learn to accept."**

Smokescreen was shaking his head and trying to squeeze his optics shut so he didn't have to look at Prima. He ignored Prima's advice because he didn't care.

"I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this." Smokescreen repeated it over and over until it began to lose its meaning. "Can't you just take it away? I don't want this."

It went dark and there was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to a true reality like a hook.

"Smokescreen?" Ratchet. He was worried. He was worried about Smokescreen.

_Was that the only thing Smokescreen could do?_

Make people worry and let his emotions take a hold of the rest?

"Smokescreen, what's wrong?" Ratchet insisted.

But the burning in Smokescreen's spark didn't seem to be dying down and everything hurt and nothing made sense and he just wanted to close his eyes and recharge. He just wanted some quiet. He just wanted to walk the Hall of Records alone again. He wanted some time to think and clear his head and try to understand all of this.

"Why..." Smokescreen rasped out, pointing a soft and pained look at Optimus. "Why did you make me Prime? Why did you give me the Matrix?"

"Because it was the only way to save you," Optimus answered.

"Well I don't want it," Smokescreen clawed at his chest. "Why is it so painful? Why does it hurt so much? Why is it so hard?"

"Nothing is easy, Smokescreen. Being a Prime is _never_ going to be easy."

"Can't you take it back? Can't you take it away?"

"No, I can not."

"But I want you to. I want it gone."

"You will die without it."

"I'd rather be dead than live with it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen’s emotions: going off the rails like a crazy train  
> Me: weehaw


	58. Chapter 58

Ratchet and Optimus were quick to exchange looks. They were quick to share their worries silently. They were quick to crouch down at Smokescreen's side.

"Smokescreen, that's not going to happen," Ratchet said immediately, hand on Smokescreen's shoulder. "We sacrificed and suffered too much to let you die. We're not going to let you die. We're going to help you through this."

"You shouldn't have wasted your time," Smokescreen shook his head softly.

"I didn't waste my time," Ratchet consoled. "I used every second of my time saving you. I wasted nothing. I _needed_ to save you. I couldn't let you die. You mean too much to us."

"Smokescreen, I understand the burden you now hold," Optimus was at Smokescreen's other side, offering him comfort. "I told you it would not be easy, but you do not have to deal with this alone."

Smokescreen was still somewhat shaking his head, but he was half nodding it as well, closer to just moving it senselessly now, trying to tell them he was listening, but without actually speaking. He didn't trust his voice anymore. And he had a strange feeling that if he spoke, something bad would happen.

_Pain._

_There was always pain._

_"You are quite loud," Megatron laughed. "As much as I enjoy listening to the way you cry and moan at my touch, I think I would enjoy your silence even more."_

_Megatron's claws latched around Smokescreen's throat, squeezing with a wicked grin on his face._

_Smokescreen's voice locked up, rendering him speechless and breathless. Smokescreen squirmed and fought against the restraints. He gasped and gasped, trying to breathe. Trying to speak. Trying to get air. Trying to break free._

_"Shh, that's it," Megatron soothed, gently placing a hand on Smokescreen's cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen in Smokescreen's silent sobs. His hand fell away from Smokscreen's neck, relishing in the way Smokescreen's voice now fizzled and glitched. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"_

_Smokescreen trembled, biting against his own lip plates to trying not to let himself cry anymore._

_"Now just keep quiet and I will let you live."_

_Smokescreen's nod was weak, but it still made Megatron smirk at the way Smokescreen crumbled._

_"You break so easily," Megatron remarked in amusement, choosing to watch Smokescreen squirm once more before he moved his servos and claws lower._

_Not again. Not again. Not again._

_He didn't want to hurt anymore. He didn't want to be in pain anymore. He didn't **want** this._

_Maybe... maybe if he stayed quiet. Maybe if he did as Megatron said. Maybe it wouldn't hurt. Maybe Megatron wouldn't hurt him. Maybe it'd be okay this time.;_

_But that would be too good to be true._

And it wasn't all.

_"Abhorrent sadist..."_

_Unicron's claws plunged through Smokescreen's throat, voice box punctured and pulverized. Torn straight from its home and into Unicron's hands._

_"So disobedient," Unicron mused, placing the voice box almost directly next to Smokescreen’s head, making sure that the rookie could see what happened. “See what I had to do because of you? I had to damage your pretty little neck because you wouldn’t listen.”_

_Smokescreen’s mouth was opening and closing, trying to gape out wordless sentences and insults and threats._

_He wanted to kill Unicron. He wanted to take Unicron and throw him into the melting pits because he knew that would work._

_Not even a god could survive being melted alive._

_But this was Smokescreen’s warning. This was his **one and only** warning._

_If he did this again. If he **disobeyed** Unicron again, it would be worse. It would be more than a voice box. It’d be more than an audial receptor or a digit or an optic._

_Unicron would take his spark._

_And that would hurt so much more than all of this._

_He didn’t like pain. He didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want to be in pain._

_He didn't want to die._

”Talk to me, Smokescreen,” Ratchet urged. “I need to know you're okay. Talk to me.”

Smokescreen shook his head, answering Ratchet’s concerns silently.

“Actual words, please, Smokescreen.”

He shook his head again.

He couldn't risk speaking. He couldn’t risk disobeying Unicron. He couldn’t risk the pain.

“It’s okay to ask for help, Smokescreen. That’s why I'm here. That’s why Optimus is here. We want to help. All you have to do is ask.”

Smokescreen turned up to Ratchet with that broken look and those pained optics. A look Ratchet hated more than anything because of how utterly sad and helpless it looks on him.

Smokescreen reached out his hand, putting it on top of Ratchet’s wrist. He lifted a finger, then he tapped softly against Ratchet’s plating.

. . . .

.

. _ . .

. _ _ .

Ratchet moved Smokescreen’s servo and held it tightly, reassuringly. He looked Smokescreen directly in the optic, giving him a soft gaze and hint of a comforting smile.

“We’re right here Smokescreen. We’re right here.”

That was all Smokescreen needed before his burst into silent sobs and mute cries. He had folded over, leaning against Ratchet, head falling into Ratchet’s lap as his shoulders trembled and the rest of him shook.

Ratchet held Smokescreen’s hand tightly and with the other, he rested it close against Smokmescreen’s face, making sure that he knew he wasn’t alone and that he knew they were right there. Just like they've always been and just like they always will be.

“Let it all out,” Ratchet whispered gently. “We’ve got you. We’re here for you. It’s going to be okay.”

Smokescreen nodded and held onto Ratchet’s arm, gripping onto it like a lifeline that was the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own, flooded head and thoughts.

“Don’t...” Smokescreen chocked out, voice weak and shakey and broken. “Don’t let go... Please don’t let go.”

This was one of those times where Ratchet remembered the most important thing about Smokescreen. The thing that no one seemed to notice and everyone seemed to forget about.

He’s a kid.

He’s a kid that spent more time than he should have in prison. He’s a kid that got kidnapped, tortured, and raped by the most despicable, disgusting, bastard the Universe had to offer. He got kidnapped again. He got a door wing ripped off. He got attacked by the person he trusted most in the world. He’s a kid that tried to take his own life, only to fall into Unicron’s clutches for what felt like years, but in reality, was nearly a week or so. He was tortured and threatened and undoubtedly raped again. Again by a bastard somehow even more desirable and disgusting than Megatron. He’s a kid the just went from rookie to Prime and got the fate and future of Cybertron thrown onto his shoulders without so much of a warning.

He’s _just_ a _kid_.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go. Not again. I can’t lose you again.”

“Thank you...” Smokescreen barely whispered his gratitude. “Thank you... _Thank you._ ”


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, wasn’t feeling super well yesterday, so I wasn't feeling up to writing too much. Here’s the chapter you would have gotten yesterday though. I know you wanted some more Dreadwing and Wheeljack so... make out time????

“Wheeljack, if you walk around this table one more time, I am going to break both your legs and force you to sit down,” Dreadwing threatened, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair he was seated in, watching Wheeljack pace around the room and the chairs and the tables.

It was just the two of them, at the current moment, lingering in an empty room. One of the old Vehicon common rooms. Dreadwing had found them quiet places away from everything. He often came here just to talk with the Vehicons while he awaited orders. He always enjoyed the way they all completely froze and went silent when he entered the room, then the way they would release all the tension trapped in their frames as he sat down and waved a hand at them for them to continue their previous conversation.

"Normally I'd be turned on by that," Wheeljack remarked, pointing a finger at Dreadwing, but not looking at him or stopping his path around the table.

"Turned on by the fact that I threatened to break your legs?" Dreadwing asked in equal parts skeptically and seriously, crossing his legs now and straightening his posture just a bit.

"I'm turned on by the fact that you-" He gestured vaguely at Dreadwing's position. "-are sitting there like that, condescendingly, without a care in the world, while I wonder if Smokescreen's going to die on the operating table."

"He is already dead, mind you. It is just a matter of whether or not they can bring him back."

"You say that like it's not a big deal. You say that like it's not important. You say that like you don't care about Smokescreen- which I know you do."

"I've found myself distracted from worry by your incessant pacing," Dreadwing remarked amusedly.

"So... me worrying makes you less worried?"

"Remarkably so."

"Then why'd you ask me to stop?"

"Because it starts to become less of a distraction and more of an annoyance at some point."

"Guess it reached that point then."

"It was reached some time ago."

Wheeljack sighed and found himself able to sit down, even though he was still unable to sit still. He tapped servos, he played with his hands, he bounced his leg and he dug his fingertips into the seams of his plating. Just because he was sitting down didn't mean he was done going through it.

Across from him, Dreadwing uncrossed his arms and legs and looked at Wheeljack with a calculating gaze that managed to fill with worry.

"When did you last recharge?" Dreadwing asked, suddenly sounding concerned after all his boasting of not being worried at the current moment.

There was no answer and Dreadwing rolled his optics.

Wheeljack and his stupid Wrecker complex. He has to be okay all the time. He has to do everything on his own all the time. He has to figure it out on his own and keep his emotions in check _all the time._

"If I have to drag your sorry aft to Ratchet again because you have not been getting-"

"I'm fine," Wheeljack said quickly.

"That is not what I asked," Dreadwing glared. "I asked when you last recharged."

"When Ratchet forced me to," Wheeljack answered, but he made it sound like it wasn't that big of a deal. "And that's fine. I'm fine. We're fine. This is all just fine."

"I will start by saying no. No, this is not fine. No, we are not fine. No, you are not fine. Get some rest. Recharge. Let Ratchet be the one that worries."

“It’s just hard, you know.” Wheeljack was pacing again. “Everything is just-” He sighed. “-Right now, it’s hard not to be worrying about Smokescreen. He got taken by Unicron- _killed_ by Unicron. We didn’t even know about it. Primus, I hate feeling like this.”

“Like this?”

“Useless.”

“How so?”

“It’s just that I can’t do anything about all this. I couldn’t do anything earlier and I still can’t do anything. I have to sit here and wait.”

“Well, you are not sitting.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t want to be useless anymore.”

“Even though you are?”

“You’re not helping.”

“Not your therapist. I do not have to.”

“Okay, well, you could at least try to help me out here.”

Dreadwing rolled his optics, a display Wheeljack continues to find strangely attractive and extremely distracting.

But he also finds every other part of Dreadwing attractive and distracting, so getting drawn in by his slight movements and little mannerisms and habits.

“Alright, go ahead,” Dreadwing breathed out, probably in an attempt to keep himself from making any more sarcastic comments.

“I don’t want to anymore,” Wheeljack sassed.

Dreadwing shrugged and stood. “Alright.” Dreadwing looked up at Wheeljack and made his way to the door. “Enjoy.”

“Wait,” Wheeljack's voice lost it's usual playful tone in an instant and his hand was on Dreadwing's wrist even faster. "Don't leave."

Dreadwing didn't.

"I need someone right now," Wheeljack explained. "I don't care if all your doing is making snide remarks. I don't care if your even listening to what I'm saying. I just need someone to rant to."

It wasn't like Wheeljack. It wasn't like him to show this kind of weakness. It wasn't like him to _admit_ this kind of weakness.

But maybe that was _why_ he was showing it. Maybe he was showing his weakness because it had been too long since he hadn't. Maybe he was admitting his weakness because he _needed someone_ to know about it.

Even if that someone he needed was Dreadwing.

"So you are also looking for a distraction too?" Dreadwing asked, the snark gone from his voice and replaced by genuity.

Wheeljack looked at Dreadwing for a moment, then he dropped his hold on the larger bot and looked away. "Yeah... I guess I am."

It was Dreadwing that took Wheeljack's wrist this time. He drew Wheeljack in close and took a step, then Wheeljack's back was up against the closed door. Dreadwing leaned down, lowering himself so that the distance between their faces was much smaller. He smirked.

"How do you feel about being distracted together, then?"

Dreadwing's voice was low and smooth and Wheeljack wasn't about to say no to that.

 _That_ being whatever Dreadwing was insinuated, and Wheeljack knew that he was insinuating it. Given their position and the way Dreadwing was looking down on him, there was no way Dreadwing was just going to propose that they play a good old game of chess while they waited for news of Smokescreen's condition.

At least, he _better not_ be about to propose a game of chess after getting Wheeljack riled up like this.

"And what would being distracted include?" Wheeljack questioned with a playful smirk of his own making it's way onto his lips.

Dreadwing's own lips pressed together and he humed.

 _Primus,_ Wheeljack wanted to kiss him.

"That depends," Dreadwing's hold on Wheeljack's wrist was now brought higher and he had caught Wheeljack's second wrist as well.

Wheeljack felt his arms being stretched up, relishing in the way it stretched him _just right._

Dreadwing's other servo found it's way underneath Wheeljack's hood. "What do you want it to include?"

_Was this really the same mech that nearly overheated because he got called pretty?_

Surely Dreadwing was just tired then. Or maybe he was just tired now. Either way, there was no possible way that Dreadwing got embarrassed when flirted with, but could whisper filthy nothings like this as if it were nothing at all.

"I didn't think I would ever be able to catch you like this," Wheeljack commented on Dreadwing's new attitude.

"Well, it would look to me like _I_ was the one that caught _you,_ " Dreadwing's smile grew and he tapped one of his digits against Wheeljack's hands trapped in his.

Wheeljack tried pushing against Dreadwing's grip, surprised to find that it was actually hard to fight against.

"Well?" Dreadwing wondered. "What is your choice of distraction?"

Wheeljack huffed out a laugh. "I thought you would have figured that out by now."

Dreadwing's face lowered just a bit more. Just close enough for Wheeljack to lung forward and reach if he wanted to. Just close enough to kiss.

"Well then, you must forgive me," Dreadwing apologized, but his voice was filled with something other than sincerity. "I can not seem to have figured it out. You will have to tell me."

The way he talked, the way he teased, it all went through Wheeljack and straight to his spike. Wheeljack was a fan of foreplay. He enjoyed the teasing. But right now, there was only one thing he wanted and that was the big blue bot pinning him to a wall.

"What do you want?"

"It's simple, really."

Wheeljack leaned up just a bit. Just close enough reach Dreadwing. Just close enough to kiss.

Dreadwing had seemed surprised at how gentle the kiss was. He was undoubtedly expecting Wheeljack to go straight for the tongue, not the sweet and simple peck.

"You. I want _you_."


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about another late chapter, I just really haven’t been feeling ng well this week. Don’t worry, it’s not covid. I got tested the other day and it came back negative. It’s probably just a cold or the flu, but I’m not worried about it. Give it a day or two and I’ll be feeling better. I hope all of you guys have been surviving winter without getting sick.

A click was the only warning they got before the door opened. With the loss of support, Wheeljack fell backward, Dreadwing falling with him with a noise of alarm that Wheeljack wasn’t expecting to hear from Dreadwing until much later. Wheeljack was complaining though. It was a cute noise. A cute noise that was for sure. A cute noise that came from a big, tough not that made Wheeljack bubble in amusement.

If it weren't for Dreadwing's weight on his chest, he would be bursting out with laughter by now. He'd definitely hit his head on the way down. Once against the floor, again on Dreadwing's head. But now, he was pinned to the floor with Dreadwing's hands on the ground beside his helm. He had slammed them down to keep himself from completely crushing Wheeljack on his way down.

Dreadwing lifted his head a bit and blinked his optics into focus, staring straight into Wheeljack's blue ones. Wheeljack actually had to reset his occipital functions at the sight of Dreadwing staring at him with those red optics that were, quite literally, making Wheeljack's spark burn.

"Sorry about that," Dreadwing grinned and Wheeljack decided that Dreadwing was no longer allowed to smile for anyone else. "You are not hurt, are you?"

The way Dreadwing's face softened with actual concern was far too cute on someone that could most certainly kill him in his recharge cycle. Wheeljack had found himself forgetting that a lot these days. He often forgot that Dreadwing _had_ killed Seaspray and _had_ tried to kill Wheeljack. More than once. And Bulkhead. And Optimus. And-

Okay, so Dreadwing didn't have the best track record, but somehow, seeing this domestic, _emotional,_ side of Dreadwing made all that seem like some sort of dream. But being here between Dreadwing's arms also felt like a dream. A wonderful, magnificent dream that Wheeljack never wanted to end because he wanted to kiss Dreadwing again and again until he realized that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"No," Wheeljack smiled. "Just fine."

There was a cough above them, then an awkward, “I hope I wasn’t interrupting something.”

Wheeljack looked up at Arcee, who now stood over the pair with that ‘done with everyone’s shit’ gaze of hers. And she was more than done with their shit, it would seem. Although, she did look highly amused by this as well.

It wasn't every day that you caught an ex-Decepticon Lieutenant and Wrecker moments away from getting beneath each other's panels, after all.

But Arcee also looked like she regretted ever coming down this hallway and ever opening that door.

“Naw, don’t worry about it,” Wheeljack replied, a few laughs falling from his lips as he started to roll over, pushing Dreadwing off him. “Just the greatest make-out session of my life.”

Arcee rolled her optics and kicked at Wheeljack’s arm. “Well, I’m glad you two are enjoying yourselves.” She glanced over at Dreadwing. “And I’m glad to see that someone is able to get him out of his thick blue shell.”

“Wasn’t easy, let me tell you,” Wheeljack sat up with a grunt. "If you want some tips, I recommend calling them pretty first."

Dreadwing sat up as well and cleared his vocalizer, catching both of their attention. "I recommend patience." He side glanced Wheeljack. "Some bots tend to be thick-headed. And stubborn."

"What are you talking about? I'm happy to frag you. If anything, you're the one that's more stubborn. How long did it take you to admit that you liked us? Even though it was completely obvious?"

"And who was it that refused medical service until he was half dead and passing out in my arms? What kind of idiot lets their injuries get that bad?"

"And what kind of idiot doesn't get recharge when he needs it?"

"You are one to talk?"

"Boys, boys, you're both idiots," Arcee interrupted. "You're made for each other. Not to mention the absurd amount of tension between you."

"Makes for some crazy times, trust me," Wheeljack said nonchalantly.

"I'll take your word for it," Arcee rolled her optics again. "Now get up. Optimus told us to meet up at the bridge. It either has something to do with Smokescreen or the fate of Cybertron. Maybe both."

“Time of death?”

“He’s not dead.”

“What?” Wheeljack asked in shock, hurrying to his eyes. “We’re not getting called together for a death notice?”

“Apparently not,” Arcee shrugged.

“How did they...” 

“No idea.”

“Ratchet and I are going to have to talk. I know he’s talented, but you don’t just bring people back to life. Even if their spark’s alive.”

“And he still does not believe in miracles?” Dreadwing questioned, standing up as well.

“He’s an old coot,” Wheeljack half laughed. “He’s just too prideful to admit that something is a miracle and not the result of his medical expertise.”

“But bringing someone back from the dead?” Dreadwing wondered. “You can’t say that’s just ‘medical expertise.’”

“Maybe Shockwave stuck his hand in there,” Wheeljack pointed out. “You’ve seen the Predacons. He was able to revive them, so why not Smokescreen?”

“Well, if you two love birds would get a move on, we could find out,” Arcee jerked a finger over her shoulder and down the hall. “Unless you want to get back to it.”

“I think you killed the mood already,” Wheeljack said, expressing his annoyance at that fact.

“Too bad,” Arcee started, then she turned and walked down the hall, not waiting to see if they were going to follow.

Wheeljack looked to Dreadwing in the silent question of ‘do you know how he did it?’

Dreadwing shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

“Yeah,” Wheeljack sighed. “You wanna finish what we started later? In a berthroom, of course. Less likely to be walked in on there.”

“Fair enough,” Dreadwing started walking. “Let’s go.”

Wheeljack let Dreadwing get ahead of him before he decided to catch up, giving Dreadwing a tap with his arm.

“Anyway, now that you’ve admitted to caring about us Autobots, you’ve got to tell me who you like the most,” Wheeljack started.

“Who do you think?” Dreadwing made the question sound serious, but the sarcasm was by no means hidden.

“Well, based on the fact that you had me pinned against the wall with your gloss halfway down my throat...” Wheeljack tapped his chin and feigned deep thought. “It’s got to be Smokescreen, right?”

“How did you know?” Dreadwing asked flatly.

“It was pretty obvious, actually. I mean, you had that dream too, right? The one of him dying?”

“I also had a dream that you died. Several of them.”

Wheeljack stared for a moment. “Wait, you didn’t tell me about that.”

“I was unaware that I was required to.”

“You didn’t have to, but I mean, I’d like to know when people dream about my death. It might be a sign.”

“I will inform you next time, then.”

“I appreciate it,” Wheeljack tapped Dreadwing’s arm again. “But hey! Try not to go around dreaming about me dying too much. I don’t want to have to comfort you.”

“And here I was thinking that I was your favorite Decepticon.”

 _“Ex-_ Decepticon,” Wheeljack emphasized. “But if I’m being honest, I’ve always had a soft spot for Shockwave.”

Dreadwing raised an optic ridge. “Oh?“

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t frag him.”

“I am consoled.”

“Man, maybe I should take up counseling.”

“I would not recommend it. For the sakes of your future patients.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m just trying to follow my dreams.”

“I thought you said you did not want to comfort people after bad dreams. Why would yours be any different?”

“I see what you’re getting at now.”

“You really are thick-helmed. I can not believe I have actually grown kind of you.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Wheeljack smiled brightly.

“You are an idiot.”

“But I’m _you’re_ idiot.”

Dreadwing looked over his shoulder and gave Wheeljack a look. A look that was almost impossible to read, but it could mean one of two things.

One: I don’t want you as my own you disgusting idiot. And two: Not yet. But quite possibly, it could also be a third: Kinky.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wheeljack asked, pausing his steps.

Dreadwing turned around and kept walking.

“Hey!”

Dreadwing rounded a corner.

“Hey! Come back! What did that look mean? You can't just walk off!"

Unfortunately, Dreadwing could and he currently was. He wasn't turning around either.

Wheeljack sighed. "Best make-out of my life, but also the biggest piece of stupid human shit as well. Who leaves a bot hanging like that?" Wheeljack sighed again and walked after Dreadwing. "I'm not good at reading people! You're a piece of fecal matter! I hope you know that!"

"I have been severely degraded by your insults!" Dreadwing finally answered from in front of him. "I will have to bring it up in my next counseling session!"

"You don't even go to-" Wheeljack sighed, throwing his helm in his hand. "And I thought I was an idiot."

"You still are."

Wheeljack walked quickly to catch up with Dreadwing again. "What do you say to a duel then?"

"Duel?" Dreadwing looked down in intrigue.

"For the title."

"The title of who is the bigger idiot?"

"That's the one. What do you say?"

Dreadwing shook his head slightly. "Only an idiot would accept your challenge."

"Good thing you are one."

"I could say the same thing to you."

"Then you accept."

"After we talk to Optimus and Ratchet."

"Yes or no answer only, please."

Dreadwing sighed. "Fine."


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's really been hard for me to look at a computer screen for more than 10 minutes in a row without getting a headache. I really want to do nothing but sleep and it's been snowing a lot up where I live so I haven't been able to go to work or school for the past week or so, which is perfect because I feel like a literal piece of garbage right now, but bad because I do not feel motivated to do anything, including write. If I'm still sick by the end of this week, I'll probably go to see a doctor because I tested negative to covid and this has been going on way too long to just be a cold.

Smokescreen really, _really,_ didn't like this ship. He hated the feeling of the cold, metal floor. He hated the look of the cold, metal ceiling. He hated the memories filled withing each cold, metal hallway.

He wanted to get off this ship and then burn it.

Sure, it provided them with a mobile base full of resources while they waited for the rest of Cybertron to return to how it once looked, but it was a Decepticon ship. One that Smokescreen knew was filled with _everyone's_ memories.

Everyone else had been on this ship at one point. Going on rescue missions, being taken prisoner, being torture, etc. All in all, _no one_ had good memories of this ship. _Maybe_ Shockwave and Dreadwing were safe from the crushing weight of pain and anger and _hatred_ that everyone else felt as they rounded each corner and went into each room. Shockwave wasn't on the _Nemesis_ long enough to form a proper opinion of it and Dreadwing had once lived on it, but it was still a _strong_ maybe.

He understood that this was supposed to be important. He understood that everyone else was on the _Nemesis_ and that he needed to be there for this. He understood that everyone needed to know that he was alive and _Prime,_ which he was still _very_ opposed to even the idea of it.

But apparently, consent wasn't necessary in order to be given the Matrix and the title of Prime. A title Smokescreen was not going to be taking any time soon. Matrix or not.

He didn't _want_ to be Prime. He didn't _want_ to lead. He could have died and been done. Done with stress and suffering and every other painful second of his life.

Was he really that important? Was his one life really worth Optimus giving up the Matrix? Was he worth it?

Apparently, no one else cared if he was 'worth it' or not. They all just couldn't bear the thought of losing one of their own and panicked and stuck the Matrix into Smokescreen's spark chamber and hoped for the best. They didn't care if he was 'worth it' or important or even useful. They just dropped everything to save Smokescreen.

They saved him without thinking about what it would _do_ to him.

He was grateful. He was grateful to be alive. I wanted to be alive. He wanted to _live._

Just not like _this_.

"You alright, Smokescreen?" Ratchet asked, seeming to have caught on to Smokescreen's mind wandering far away from the matter at hand.

"I don't like this ship," Smokescreen answered almost immediately. "I know you don't like it either. I know that no one else likes it."

"We don't have many other options," Ratchet replied, not denying Smokescreen's claim. "We needed a base of operations. This was the best we had."

"I know," Smokescreen sighed. "Doesn't change the fact that I hate it and I don't even know why."

Ratchet looked down slightly. Like a guilty sparkling.

"But you do," Smokescreen pointed out. "Care to share."

The door to the bridge opened and Ultra Magnus, finally awake from his medically induced coma and cleared for duty, walked in. There was the tiniest hint of a limp in his step, but he hid it well. His gaze turned respectfully towards Optimus, but it lingered, and Ultra Magnus' expression changed into one of confusion. Then his optics fell to Smokescreen, further deepening the furrow in his brows as he tried to figure out just what was going on.

"We'll talk later," Ratchet muttered.

Smokescreen crossed his arms impatiently. So he was a Prime, but Ratchet still got the final say.

CMO and all that.

"Optimus, no offense, but you seem... _different,_ " Magnus stated.

"I will explain it all once the others arrive," Optimus said.

The next through the door was Bumblebee and Bulkhead, then Arcee, then Dreadwing and Wheeljack, who were happily chatting as they walked.

Shockwave and the Predacons had stated that they were not planning on making an appearance at the event. Flat Line was probably still in Shockwave's lab, despite the fact that they offered him safety on the ship in return for his purposes. Starscream was nowhere to be found. It might become an issue later on, but right now, everyone was just glad that he was gone in the meantime.

Knock Out wasn't there either. Whether he was just taking his time reaching them or whether he was dealing with something else at the moment, it didn't matter. He wasn't here and in all honesty, Ratchet had begun to think that it might have been a good thing, seeing as Smokescreen would probably have no recollection of Knock Out saving his life or him becoming a Predacon. He wouldn't remember the trust he had placed in Knock Out or any of the help Knock Out had given him.

All Smokescreen would see is another bot he didn't remember and didn't care about. And all Knock Out would feel would be... nothing, actually. Pre brain injury, Knock Out would be devastated. Post brain injury... not so much. He probably wouldn't even register that he _should_ be disappointed or upset by Smokescreen's lack of memory.

Knock Out was going to show up though. Even though he was late, Ratchet knew he was still coming. Ratchet knew he was coming because Knock Out didn't know that Smokescreen lost his memories.

Explaining that part to everyone was going to be a bit of a hassle. Not as much as explaining that Smokescreen was their next Prime or explaining to Smokescreen, in detail, what happened to him on the _Nemesis._

"I apologize for gathering all of you on such short notice," Optimus began, not waiting for Knock Out to arrive. "But as many of you realize, Smokescreen is not dead. But he is more than just 'not dead.' That is why I gathered you. I thought it would be best for me to tell you in person that the Matrix... has been passed on."

No one said anything, but the looks on everyone's face was more than enough to convey the shared thoughts and feelings of the room.

'He's still so young.'

'You sure this is a good idea? After all he's been through?'

'A little unceremonious, don't you think?'

'This means he's a Prime.'

'Prime?'

'A bit of a jump in rank.'

'Is Smokescreen going to be alright?'

'It's a lot for us to take in.'

'I can't imagine how he's dealing with it.'

Smokescreen could see every syllable in their posture and every word in their gaze. He could read the entire room like a sparkling's book. It was obvious that most of them were confused or otherwise concerned about this.

But not one of them spoke a word out loud.

"I understand that many of you, if not all, are going to have questions or concerns about this," Optimus continued. "This decision was mine as well as Ratchet's and the Matrix's. It was the only choice we had in saving Smokescreen. And in continuing the line of Primes."

"What's... that supposed to mean?" Bumblebee asked slowly, trying to figure out his own definition for it that he hoped wouldn't be the same one he had a feeling Optimus had.

"My time is over," Optimus answered, and everyone in the room went rigid at the thought. "I served in a time of war. A time of chaos and calamity. We do not need an old war veteran or a military general as a leader anymore. We need a new leader. One that has known peace longer than war. One that will be able to learn and adapt and _change_ as Cybertron does. And perhaps, Smokescreen is not ready to take charge right now, but he will be. Maybe _right now_ is not Smokescreen's time, but the Matrix _chose_ Smokescreen. He will come into his before he even realizes."

"Prima hates me," Smokescreen said before he could even stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

There was a snort from Ratchet. "He doesn't hate you, he's just a little more by the book."

"I didn't even realize there _was_ a book," Smokescreen groaned. "Do I have to read that too or can I tap out now?"

The fact that Smokescreen was acting surprisingly... like _himself_ seemed to throw everyone for a loop. They were used to Smokescreen being quiet and fidgety and jumpy. This was just like how he acted before Megatron got a hold of him.

Was it a good thing or a bad one?

"We have talked about this Smokescreen," Optimus said.

"I know, I know," Smokescreen sighed. "This is just... the last thing I was expecting after I got brought back from the dead. Actually... being brought back from the dead was the last thing I was expecting."

But if Smokescreen was jovial and joking and happy, that meant he was taking this all well. _Surprisingly_ well.

"We're glad to have you back kid," Wheeljack finally broke the confused silence on their half of the room.

Smokescreen turned to Wheeljack with a wide smile. A genuine one. A genuine smile that no one had seen on Smokescreen's face in a long time. _Too long_ of a time.

He gave Wheeljack a once over, then his optics paused at the nasty residual burn marks on Wheeljack's side.

_"Kill him for me."_

_Smokescreen couldn't control himself. He couldn't control his servo or his pedes or his thoughts. He just watched as he, although he wasn't himself, fought._

_He fought to kill while Wheeljack fought to save._

_Wheeljack would have never won fighting like that._

_Even if Smokescreen wasn't his friend, Wheeljack would have died because he wasn't fighting to kill while Smokescreen was._

_Wheeljack got distracted. It was unlike the Wrecker._ _Smokescreen had known him, not every long, but he knew him. He knew that Wheeljack didn't lose focus. Wheeljack didn't get distracted._

_Smokescreen couldn't stop himself._

**_Kill him.  
_ **

_His gun was already out and he could already feel the surge of power rush through his systems as the shot fired._

**_Kill_ _him._ ** _  
_

_He watched as the shot hit Wheeljack and as Wheeljack grunted and misstepped, half crumpling in the pain. He watched Wheeljack's servo go to the wound as if he didn't quite believe it was real. As if he didn't quite believe it was_ Smokescreen _that just shot him._

**_Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.  
_ **

Smokescreen's optics returned to Wheeljack's and he felt guilt overtake him and his smile fall as he realized that _he_ did that to Wheeljack.

"Sorry about that-" Smokescreen gestured to the wound. "-by the way."

"Hey, no trouble," Wheeljack dismissed the apology. "You weren't exactly in the right state of mind at the time."

"I'm sorry anyway."

Wheeljack opened his mouth, clearly prepared to argue more on Smokescreen's behalf, but the door opened and he stopped.

Everyone did.

Knock Out walked it. Late because apparently losing his emotions also meant losing his punctuality.

"Sorry I'm late," Knock Out apologized half-heartedly. "I know you said this was important, but I've also been dealing with my whole lack of-" He froze and stared.

A genius idea not to tell Knock Out that Smokescreen was alive, really. Completely logical of them not even to mention it after all Knock Out's done for Smokescreen and how much he cares about Smokescreen.

How much he _cared._

"Smokescreen..." Knock Out seemed at a loss for words.

Smokescreen couldn't help but stare as well. This was a new face to him. Decepticon, that was for sure. Beast-like, as well. And oddly... familiar.

_Wild red optics stared down at Smokescreen. They were glaring and glowing and lost._

_They were optics that Smokescreen had found so comforting before. They were optics that Smokescreen had once felt he could confide in. They were optics that Smokescreen couldn't trust anymore._

_A large grin of flashy gold teeth spread across Knock Out's face._

_He was enjoying this. He was enjoying the suffering. He was enjoying the energon on his servos. He was enjoying the death._

_He was so far gone in his bloodlust that he wasn't even conscious anymore. He was so lost in his own deep hatred that he didn't even know what he was doing._

_Smokescreen cried out for help as a claw ran down his chassis. It was painful and slow and Smokescreen begged for it to stop, but Knock Out didn't listen._

_This was his end. He was going to die. He was going to be killed by someone he had loved and trusted. He was going to have his spark ripped out and he was going to die._

**_So what?  
_ **

_He's already suffered so much. He's already such a burden. He can't do anything because everything makes him hurt even more._

**_Wouldn't it be better if he was dead?_ **

_Knock Out was going to kill him. Knock Out was someone he trusted. What better way to go than by the hands of someone you trust?_

_But Smokescreen didn't want to die. He didn't want to have his spark ripped out and he didn't want Knock Out's claws to run any deeper._

_Because all Smokescreen could think about when they did was Megatron._

_The way Megatron's claws had raked and ruined him. The way Megatron's claws had tried to rip out his spark. The way Megatron's claws had hurt and hurt him until Smokescreen felt like he had no more pain left to feel._

_Smokescreen didn't trust Knock Out. Smokescreen didn't want to get killed by Knock Out. Smokescreen didn't want to be near him anymore. He wanted to get away. He needed to get away._

**_Just stop the pain.  
_ **

_Knock Out wasn't listening and Knock Out wasn't stopping. Smokescreen could beg and cry all he wanted but Knock Out wasn't going to listen. He only craved one thing and that was destruction._

**_Knock Out was just like Megatron._ **

Smokescreen was taking steps back and hiding behind Ratchet before he had even realized it.

This was the one that had 'saved him.' This was the one he 'trusted.'

But how could Smokescreen have been saved by him when all he's done is hurt Smokescreen more? How could Smokescreen trust him when all he's done is imitate the actions of _Megatron?_

Knock Out wasn't his savior. Knock Out was a monster.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally feeling a little better (not perfect though), so I was able to get in a chapter on time!

"Ah," Ratchet began awkwardly, taking that as his cue to say something. "I think that it's time to mention that in the act of being revived and becoming Prime, Smokescreen has lost all of his memories following the night he left base alone. He doesn't even remember his own death."

There was silence as that settled in. There was silence as what that meant became clear.

"That means..." Bulkhead looked up hopefully, but he trailed off. "He wouldn't remember, right?"

It was easy to catch on to what exactly he was referring to and what exactly Smokescreen wouldn't remember. The realization of that settled in as well.

"No wonder he's been acting like his usual self," Wheeljack commented.

Usual self? Smokescreen wasn't aware that he had ever acted any different.

"And no wonder he's afraid of Knock Out," Arcee added. "Smokescreen still remembers small and shiny Knock Out, not scary and shiny Knock Out."

Smokescreen did remember scary and shiny Knock Out. He remembers scary and shiny Knock Out trying to kill him vividly. He remembers that pain. He remembers the betrayal.

He _does not_ like scary and shiny Knock Out.

Knock Out was still looking at Smokescreen as the others spoke, clearly not convinced that Smokescreen didn't remember _anything._

Smokescreen wasn't afraid of Dreadwing, a former Decepticon. He accepted it. Why would he be afraid of Knock Out just because he had a few more spikes than the average bot? That wasn't like Smokescreen. It meant that he still remembered _something._

"I think he does," Knock Out said, trying to speak as gently as he could as to not set Smokescreen off any further. "Remember, that is. He remembers me."

Everyone looked at Knock Out like he had lost half his neurons.

"I do," Smokescreen said quietly before anyone else could speak up or try to prove Knock Out wrong. "I do remember. I remember Megatron. I remember suffering. I remember Unicron. I remember death. I don't remember it all. I don't remember the important parts, but the pain... I _always_ remember the pain. I remember Megatron scratching me until I was pretty sure I was covered in more holes than actual plating. I remember. I remember watching my own energon spill and pour and puddle. I remember Unicron taking me and controlling me. I remember him ordering me and forcing me to hurt people and kill people. I remember following those orders. I remember _dying._ I remember the way my plating melted and the way I felt nothing but burning pain until it just stopped. I don't remember _everything_ Megatron did to me. I don't remember how I escaped the _Nemesis_. I don't remember _everything._ But I remember you. I remember you before you turned into this. I remember _you_ trying to _kill me_."

"I never wanted to hurt you," Knock Out defended. "I never wanted to _kill_ you."

"Then why?" Smokescreen's faltered for a moment, choking on the fear and betrayal. "I remember trusting you too. I remember how I felt when you looked at me like you didn't know who I was then tried to claw out my spark."

"Then you'd also remember that I wasn't in control of my own actions at that time. You'd remember that after I realized what I was doing, I almost lost my mind. You'd remember that I took a shot from Starscream and almost died because _I hurt you._ "

"And you'd also remember the way you freaked out the moment Knock Out got hurt," Knock Out added. "You'd remember the way you panicked when I said I didn't know if I could save him."

_It was all so bright and blue._

_It seemed a crime for a liquid of such a pretty color to be streaming from the massive hole blown through Knock Out's middle. Why couldn't it be dark red, like a human's blood? Why couldn't it be a slick black, like oil? The reality of it would actually make sense then. The reality of the fact that Knock Out was losing his vital fuel source like it was nothing but water running between fingers would actually set in._

_Knock Out wouldn't stop moving and he wouldn't stop howling. It was so loud and high-pitched and full of absolute despair that Smokescreen might have thought the howl was meant for the dead. Each movement he made only made it worse. Each cry he sounded only made him suffer more._

_Ratchet tried to stop him. Ratchet tried to calm him down and stop his thrashing. Ratchet tried to get him to lay down before he bled out._

_Not an easy task to perform on a grieving Predacon._

_Knock Out's howl did die down into just a cry eventually. Not quite_ just _a cry. It was closer to uncontrollable and inconsolable sobs._

_Ratchet continued his seemingly useless efforts, speaking softer in order to try and project his calm attitude onto Knock Out's, quite frankly, insane one._

_"Ratchet... but- but I... I_ hurt him," _Knock Out fell to the ground as his sobs continued, wallowing in his morbid realization. "I'm just a Primus forsaken monster. I don't deserve to live anymore. Just let me die."_

_Ratchet was shaking his head, already trying to figure out how he was going to manage to fix Knock Out. "I can't do that."_

_"Yes. You can."_

_It was a pointless argument at this point. Knock Out was going into shock and not thinking straight because of the energon loss. He was stubborn before, but he was even more stubborn now. Too bad Ratchet is just the same._

_"No. I_ can't. _I will not allow an Autobot to die on my watch."_

_"I'm no Autobot. I'm nothing but a beast gone savage. You should put me down like one."_

_Knock Out was writhing in his own energon. A lovely display of dramatics, really._

_"Knock Out. You are not dying on me. This is not your fault!"_

_"But it is! I can't control myself. I keep hurting people._ I _do. Not you. Not anyone else. It's me! It's my fault!"_

_"Knock Out, you are just as much of a victim as Smokescreen is in this."_

_Knock Out's laugh was more terrifying and blood-curdling than his howl. He sounded completely insane._

_"Victim!? I'm a victim? Smokescreen went through things I couldn't even imagine going through and I. Was. There. I'm not even_ half _the victim Smokescreen is. He's the one that needs your help, not me. He's hurt._ I _hurt him. It's your job to_ help him. _"_

_"Knock Out!" Ratchet had become increasingly frantic as Knock Out continued talking and yelling and moving as energon continued to flow freely from the wound and Knock Out didn't even seem to care. "I'm not sure if you've noticed or not, but there is currently a HOLE in the middle of you, so I'm going to need you to shut up so I can save your life before you bleed out in the middle of this hallway!"  
_

_Knock Out didn't even know he had been shot. Crazy, right? He was so far gone in his grief and remorse that he never even knew that he had been shot in the first place. He was so lost in his anguish that he missed the part where he was_ dying.

 _And all Smokescreen could focus on was the fact that there was so much bright, blue energon. It was everywhere. The floor, the walls, covering Knock Out, covering Ratchet, covering servos and digits, and everything else. Smokescreen could only focus on the part where Knock Out was_ dying.

_"Is he... going to be okay?"_

_Ratchet didn't answer, and_ _Smokescreen's spark dropped._

Smokescreen fell silent.

So what if he did remember? So what if he remembers Knock Out almost killing him? So what if he remembers almost losing Knock Out?

He still remembers it. And he still remembers the pain Knock Out caused him. Whether it was on purpose or not, Knock Out tried to kill Smokescreen.

And Smokescreen couldn't imagine ever leaving his trust in someone that betrayed him in such a way.

Why did he even care about such a monster? Why did he even care about Knock Out then? Why did he care if Knock Out was the one that tried to kill him?

Not the only one, though. There was a long list of three people, not counting Vehicons and Insecticons, of people that wanted to kill Smokescreen and tried to.

In sequential order: Megatron, Knock Out, and Unicron- who succeeded.

"Maybe I don't want to remember," Smokescreen whispered now that every optic in the room was on him and his sudden shift of mood at Ratchet's words. "Everything I remember hurts so bad. I can only remember the pain and the suffering and I don't want that anymore. _I don't want to remember."_

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a say in the matter, kid," Ratchet matched his tone. "Everything you say and every hall you walk is bound to be full of memories. It's only a matter of time before you remember it all."

"Then I don't want to be here anymore," Smokescreen was just talking to Ratchet now. Everyone else in the room had disappeared and it was just him and his doctor. Just like all those thousand sessions of therapy that he wished had helped more than they did. "I don't want to hear anything or walk any halls. I don't want to be here anymore."

"Then what do you want instead? Where will you go?"

"Back to Earth."


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me not writing the chapter and watching western movies all night:  
> Also me: man, why isn’t the chapter finished yet?

"Earth?" Ratchet asked, but he didn't sound judgemental or questioning about it.

"Yes, Earth," Smokescreen repeated. "I don't want to be on Cybertron anymore. I don't want to be around anyone anymore. I just want to get away from all of this and all of... _everything._ Earth is quiet. I like it. I want to go back."

No one was going to deny him that. No one was going to say no to the traumatized rookie and their new Prime.

"Besides, you don't need a Prime," Smokescreen continued. "I'm useless anyway. Not much of a help around here and definitely not a leader. Optimus can take care of everything. He's always done just fine at that for the past few million years."

"Smokescreen, my time as leader is over," Optimus tried to reason. "In this coming time of peace, Cybertron will need a ruler that is well versed in the act of peace. It is all you have ever known. Whether or not you see that now, I see it. I know that I am not the only one either."

"I'll come back once I see it too."

"You're really going to leave?" Wheeljack asked. "Just like that?"

"I can't be here anymore," Smokescreen said. "I just want a break from it all. You get that, right?"

Wheeljack sighed. "I do, kid. I do. I get it."

"We just got you back and it feels like we're already losing you again," Arcee commented.

"Then it'll be like nothing ever happened," Smokescreen said nonchalantly. "Back to peace and quiet."

"I don't like that kind of quiet," Arcee frowned.

"Get used to it then. You'll be hearing a lot of it from now on."

"Why?" Bumblebee asked.

"Because, as I’ve said before, I need space.”

”I’ll... alert Agent Fowler that we’re coming,” Ratchet said hesitantly, making his way over to the space bridge monitor.

”We?” Smokescreen asked with intrigue.

Ratchet let out a half-laugh. “You aren’t expecting me to let you go on your own, are you?”

”Well, yes. I was.”

”Knock Out’s got things under control here. No need for two CMOs on the same ship. It isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

”But-“

”No buts and no complaining. I’m coming whether you like it or not.”

”Ratchet,” Smokescreen groaned. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

”Normally, yes. You would. With the mood swings, you’ve been having, definitely. The humans aren’t qualified to take care of you, so don’t even ask.”

”This all feels like it’s happening too fast," Bulkhead muttered.

"I couldn't agree more," Smokescreen smiled. The last thing I remember is getting knocked out by Soundwave, but It turns out, I died, then woke up a Prime. Apparently, there was some fighting and Megatron and Unicron's defeat in there somewhere as well. But hey!" Smokescreen's grin wasn't sincere anymore. It was nearing the point that could start to be considered insane. "You know what they say! Time flies when you've lost your mind!"

Ratchet sighed. "Smokescreen, you haven't lost your mind. Mind control and memory loss aren't the same as insanity."

"Sure feels like it," Smokescreen grumbled. "ETA on the bridge to Earth?"

"I forgot how impatient you were," Ratchet mumbled.

"Ah, right, sorry about that," Smokescreen said sarcastically. "Let me just relive this traumatic event that I don't remember so that I'm less of a bother to you."

"Smokescreen, you know that's not what I was saying."

"Do I though? Do I _know_ you didn't mean it that way or do you just _think_ that I know?"

Ratchet didn't answer, turning back to the console and finishing his message to Fowler.

"Ratchet, what if you had just seriously hurt my feelings because you thought I would know what you meant?"

"Well, I obviously didn't, so there was no reason to worry about it in the first place," Ratchet huffed, turning back to Smokescreen. "You sure you want to go to Earth?"

"What's the big deal," Smokescreen shrugged. "I can come back whenever I want. I just want some time away from Cybertron. It's not like I'm going away forever."

Everyone looked at him silently and skeptically. It didn't sound like this was just going to be a short trip.

"Seriously, I won't be gone that long. Just some thought collecting and self-identification."

"Then why did you make it sound so permanent?" Dreadwing asked.

"I didn't... mean to make it sound that way."

"'It will be like nothing ever happened.' 'Get used to the quiet.' 'I don't want to be around anyone.'" Arcee repeated a few of his earlier statements. "You sure didn't do a good job trying _not_ to make it sound that way."

"I'll come back when I'm ready. I don't know how long it's going to be, but I will come back. I just don't want to be in a place where I feel like everything I do..." Smokescreen trailed off and waved his hands feebly. "Everything I do is just-"

"Following orders?"

"Yeah..." Smokescreen answered hesitantly, giving Knock Out a strange look. "How did you..."

"It's what I feel about every day," Knock Out replied. "I feel like I only wake up in the morning because someone is waiting for me to. I only take my energon because someone hands it to me. I only stick around because people need me. I only hand Ratchet a hand welder because he asks me to. Nothing I do is for _me_. It's because someone else expects me to do it. It's because someone else _told_ me to do it."

"Exactly," Smokescreen let out a sigh of relief in the fact that someone finally seemed to understand him.

"Of course, I'm not sure if you feel it exactly like I do- you know, the whole Predacon loyalty complex- but I figured if every second of my life felt like that, then yours might as well. You've only stuck around on the ship because everyone else is here. You only get checked up by Ratchet because Optimus tells you to. You only recharge because someone reminds you to. You only refuel because everyone else does it with you. You feel like you're just following orders and you want to get away from it all."

Smokescreen had found himself at a loss for words now. Everything Knock Out said was true. It was exactly how Smokescreen felt. It was exactly what he was thinking. It was exactly what he was keeping to himself every second of every day and every time someone asked if he was okay.

Because he wasn't 'okay.'

It was a relative term, to begin with, but he really wasn't okay. He knew he wasn't being ordered around, but he couldn't help but feel like everything he did was only because he was being ordered to.

Knock Out knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking without having any idea exactly what he was feeling and thinking. Maybe there was more to Knock Out than Smokescreen remembered. Not that he remembered anything other than Knock Out almost killing him and then almost dying anyway. They were definitely closer than just former enemies.

"I took some time alone with Predaking," Knock Out continued. "It wasn't entirely my choice, but away from everything else, I felt like I could let it all go. I felt like I could be free and be myself. No more fake smiles and fabricated laughs. No more denying pain and hiding from help."

Smokescreen's own smile faltered.

How was it that Knock Out knew every single thing Smokescreen had been hiding since he had woken up from death, although this all was starting to feel like one long and crazy dream? Smokescreen felt like he was hiding this much before he died though. He just had this odd sensation that told him he had to be what everyone expected him to be. He had to be the reckless one that laughed everything off and made jokes at the wrong time and ran into battle without a plan. That was who Smokescreen _was._

But now he wasn't sure if he was even that.

Who is _Smokescreen?_

He told himself that it was what everyone remembered him as, so he kept up a front. He's done such a wonderful job at it that they should really consider possibly hiring him as an actor once they get theaters running again.

"Some alone time was good for me," Knock Out finished. "It'll be good for you too."

Apparently, he felt like he wasn't needed anymore. Knock Out walked out the door, that had never actually closed behind him.

If Smokescreen didn't know any better, he would have said that Knock Out looked sad. Sorrowful. Mournful, even. But Smokescreen did know better. He knew enough to realize that Knock Out didn't feel 'sad.' Or anything at all.

It was strange to watch someone talk with absolutely nothing in their voice. Having a monotone voice doesn't mean completely absent of emotion. Knock Out's voice is anything but monotone, but it lacks the one thing that makes him sound like he still has a spark. There's nothing that even resembles any sort of emotion or feeling his voice. Nothing at all.

"Bridge is ready when you are," Ratchet said, pulling Smokescreen out of his silence as the space bridge swirled to life with that all too familiar whirring sound.

"Thanks," Smokescreen replied, his fake smile returning. He looked around the room, watching as the others stared with real sadness, not the memory of it that Knock Out tried to display. "To all of you as well. Thanks for looking out for me and being patient with me and... helping me live. Thank you."

No one said anything to acknowledge his gratitude.

"Don't worry. I'll come back. I promise."


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the last chapter? Technically. Is there going to be an epilogue of sorts? Oh for sure. I'm not going to leave it at this. Is there going to be a sequel? I haven't decided yet. Are there going to be more fics in general? You'll have to wait and see.

The shift in Smokescreen’s mood was near immediate and the silence was.

The second they had turned away from the others and started walking through the bridge, Smokescreen changed. It was faster than a Vehicon’s death and more drastic than Knock Out’s change into a Predacon.

He became a completely different person in the blink of an optic.

It unsettled Ratchet greatly. It also meant that they were going to have a lot to talk about while it was just the two of them on Earth.

Ratchet already knew that Optimus would be too busy getting Cybertron ready for a new age, so there would be no visits from him. Maybe an occasional call just to check up on them. Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Arcee would undoubtedly stop by to check up on Smokescreen, likely using the kids as an excuse. Wheeljack might show up once in a while. Maybe Ultra Magnus too. He can't imagine Shockwave or Dreadwing touching this place with a thirty-foot pole, though.

Knock Out was still questionable. Ever since he lost his emotions, he’s been completely unreadable. He didn’t seem like he cared about checking up on Smokescreen anymore. Knock Out hadn’t asked for the issue to be fixed either- not that Ratchet _could_ fix it. Processor damage was serious and required professional help. Ratchet was a professional- the best of the best, but he wasn’t a professional neurosurgeon. He couldn’t operate on something as extreme as whatever Knock Out was dealing with.

No one would show up for a while though. They’d be patient enough to either wait for Smokescreen to give them the all-clear or for Ratchet to. They’d wait until Smokescreen actually wants to see them and actually wants them to care.

It might be a while before that.

Ratchet didn’t say anything about the sudden shift, but he would. Especially if it kept up. He might have more issues than just post-traumatic memory loss.

Ratchet wasn’t surprised when Smokescreen’s fake smile returned the second they walked out of that bridge.

Agent Fowler, along with the children and June, greeted Ratchet and Smokescreen with enthusiasm. Miko had already gone into her thousand questions a minute mode, asking excitedly about how he was and how Ratchet was and how everyone else was and if they’d gone on any new adventures recently.

It was overwhelming to be bombarded like this again. Honestly, Ratchet hated it, but he also missed it.

Smokescreen though. Smokescreen just hated it. He didn’t even say anything before he walked past them, without answering a single question, and deeper into the base to find someplace quiet.

Ratchet watched him leave with a huff and shook his head. “I expected him to go for a drive.”

“He’s different,” June commented. “Very different. What happened.”

Ratchet made his way to a stack of crates, sitting down on them and looking back towards the humans.

“Where do you want me to start?” Ratchet asked. “The part where he almost died, the part where Megatron came back to life, the part where he _did_ die, or the part where he came to life, lost his memory, and became a Prime all in one go?”

There was a tense silence as everyone’s eyes widened and they tried to piece it all together with no further knowledge of the events.

“So... he’s like... a zombie Prime then?” Miko asked, sensing the serious need and trying to lighten it.

Ratchet stared at her.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she said awkwardly.

“He’s not mentally well, right now,” Ratchet started to explain, ignoring Miko. “He needs some time to himself. Some peace and quiet. I don’t imagine that he’ll be up for conversation. Try and steer clear of him for now. If you want to tell him something, tell it through me. He’ll come around eventually.”

“I just want to help out,” Jack sighed.

“So does everyone else,” Ratchet pointed out. “They tried to. You should have seen the way Smokescreen reacted to it.”

“I’m worried about Smokescreen as well,” Agent Fowler spoke up. “But if Smokescreen’s the new Prime... what happened to Optimus?”

The others fell silent as they realized what Fowler was getting at. As far as they knew, the Matrix was only passed after the previous Prime died.

“Is that... why Smokescreen’s so upset?” Rafael asked quietly. “He’s sad because Optimus-”

“Is _fine_ ,” Miko interrupted, then she looked up at Ratchet. “Right?”

“Yes,” Ratchet confirmed. “Optimus is still alive and well. Giving Smokescreen the Matrix was the only way to bring him back, so Optimus stepped down and gave it away. But there are still some issues back on Cybertron that might require some sacrifices.”

“God, what’s happening up there?” June asked, voice full of concern.

“And I heard you say Megatron,” Fowler pointed out. “I heard you say Megatron _came back to life._ How did he manage that? You said that the Matrix brought Smokescreen back. So what brought Megatron back?”

“That’ll be Unicron,” Ratchet answered. “Lord of the Undead. The Bringer of Choas.”

"He's not so bad once you get to know him."

Ratchet glanced to the side of the room, finding Smokescreen standing against the wall with his arms crossed, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lip plates, trying to convey the fact that what he just said was actually a joke and not a serious comment.

"Once you get past the mind control and manipulation, that is."

Ratchet huffed. "Everyone has their faults."

Smokescreen's smile widened a bit. Ratchet wasn't sure how much of it was fake or not. Smokescreen was good at faking.

"I thought you weren't in the mood to talk with anyone," Ratchet commented as Smokescreen approached them.

It was strange watching Smokescreen walk and talk and even watching his tiny mannerisms. They were so like him, but completely new at the same time. Ratchet wasn't sure if it was changes brought about by the Matrix or the fact the old Smokescreen was currently in the body of new Smokescreen, which is full of reflexes and instincts that old Smokescreen never had before he was taken by Megatron.

The only thing that was new was the fact that Ratchet knew Smokescreen wasn't as senseless as he had once thought. He was smart enough to have fooled them that he was just fine for such a long time. He fooled them before it even was obvious.

When Smokescreen had first joined them, he had obviously felt excluded and alone, but it was near impossible to tell that he actually felt that way when he hardly expressed anything other than a false idiot persona.

"I figured the story of what happened to me would be better coming from me," Smokescreen replied. "Alpha Trion said that talking might help me remember, so I'm here to talk. I think he's right. And it'll be easier around people that I haven't tried to kill and people that haven't seen my corpse. It feels less... _personal,_ that way. Less like I'm involved and more like I'm just talking."

Ratchet moved aside, making room for Smokescreen on the makeshift seat of crates. "Talk away, then. They'll be happy to listen all about what happened. Especially Miko."

Smokescreen grinned at her. "I'm sure she will." Smokescreen took a seat next to Ratchet, clearing his vocalizer and allowing it to reset as he looked down at the eagerly awaiting humans. "Not quite sure where to start though. It's a bit of a long story."

"Just... start at the beginning," Jack suggested. "Everything else will just fall into line after that."

"Well..." Smokescreen thought on it. "The last thing I remember happening was being taken by Soundwave. Everything after that is blank or just parts of a whole. I guess I'll start there."

"That's not the beginning," Ratchet objected before he could even start talking.

"When I arrived at Earth? I'm pretty sure all of you know what happened after that."

"Still not the _beginning._ "

"Wait- you want me to-"

"Praxus, right?"

Smokescreen stared at Ratchet for a second before he looked down with the ghost of a smile. A real smile. Not fake.

Ratchet knew that much for sure.

"Yeah. Born and not really raised. It was destroyed before I ever _really_ got to know it."

"Doesn't matter," Ratchet shrugged, leaning back against the wall and letting Smokescreen fully enter the spotlight. "It's the beginning, right?"

"Alright," Smokescreen huffed in amusement. He hesitated before he took in a deep breath. "From the beginning."

_fin_

_for now..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've ended on a (slightly) good note, I would like to thank everyone for sticking around for so long and helping me write this. All the comments I've received are always highlights of my day and make me smile and that really kept me going. I'm not sure if I would have put so much time and effort into this if I didn't know people enjoyed it. Thank you again and I hope that you enjoyed this wild ride as much as I did. I am leaving it at sort of an ambiguous ending (until the epilogue), so whatever you think could happen after this could have happened after this. Anyway, I hope that some of you will end up reading some of my future fics as soon as I get started working on those (which probably won't be for a little while because I need a short break from writing). Thank you all (again)!! ily all :) <3 <3


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